If Walls Could Talk
by ItsALifesJourney
Summary: Does he realize what he's doing to her? ::Post Smoked-Pre Scorched Earth:: *COMPLETE.*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well looks like I found something new to write. Feel free to let me know what you think of this first chapter. I have every intention of continuing but I'd like to know how I'm doing still as the ride goes along. **** Will be EO... wouldn't have it any other way... so don't hurt me after this first chapter ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own SVU or it's characters only ones I create, but I wish I did own for obvious reasons. ;)**

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><p><strong>If Walls Could Talk<strong>

**Chapter 1**

Crisp, cool heaven.

That's where she is.

It feels so sensational against her tired skin. The rough, yet blissfully wintry bed linen soothes every muscle in her legs. By now, they are aching. A long day in this field of work will do that one's limbs, unless one is blessed by being demoted to desk duty.

She's more comfortable being out in the field chasing down leads or witnesses rather than sitting and staring aimlessly at files on her desk these days. The empty remnant of a desk that sits across from hers now, only reminds her that she'd rather take the ache in her limbs over the one in her chest any day.

She raises her right arm above her head and stares at the ceiling of her bedroom. The room is bathed in darkness and the hint of moonlight seeps through the off white, half open window blinds. As she shifts onto her side, she feels as if she could sleep for days. But with the hint of sleep comes her thoughts.

She stretches her legs and feels the ripple of the sheets tickle the heels of her feet and it feels divine. She pulls the sheet up to her waist, letting it fall onto the skin below her tank and above her sleep shorts. It even cools the heated skin of her abdomen as she looks toward of the center of her queen sized bed.

It's been 267 days, she's counted them. The day Elliot left had seared a hole in her chest. Her being. Her emotions. He'd shot a young girl and he might as well have done the same to her. She felt like the bottom dropped out of her life the day he told her that he wasn't coming back.

She had come home that night and cried. She doesn't cry often because of work. She doesn't let herself. But, if he left her like this, she must be nothing to him other than work and that's what she will consider him from now on. She isn't going to cry over him, over the job, work, anymore. Well, just not as much she thinks to herself.

It had made her feel sick to her stomach. As close as they had been, she had considered him more than the job and up until he left, she thought he had considered her the same. Best friends, confidants.

But, he had left her, the job. Left her alone. She had no one. Him. But, he left. She had understood his reasons for leaving, considered his actions. But it was hard to swallow. She couldn't help but think she wasn't good enough, so he chose to leave. Being his partner and friend wasn't enough for him to get over his internal conflict.

She had understood his need to get help then. To get away. But the more she thinks about it now, she's not upset that he left, it's just the way that he's left. She's repeated these thoughts in her head a million times since that night and it doesn't change now.

She scoots herself higher in bed, and rests her head on the pillow. The coolness of it plays with the skin on her cheek as she moves her head soothingly over the surface.

Elliot's gone.

He has been for over 8 months. She's not even sure where he is. She's not even sure if he is with his family.

He's called her twice. _Twice._ Once he had called to check on her. She had been so stunned and at a loss for words that she hadn't had any time or conscience thought to ask any drastic details about him. He'd asked how she was doing and how the cases were going. She'd told him the cases were just as hard as they'd been when he'd been there to witness them. She was just doing them on her own it felt like.

Munch and Fin alternate with her now but it feels like she's on her own for the most part. What can she say? They are no Elliot and if she wants to be honest with them one day and to herself, she could tell them, but she won't. Sometimes it feels like she's on the edge of a cliff and an inch more, she's falling... the uneasiness of not having solid ground in front of her or at her back scares her.

She never really noticed how dependent she'd been on Elliot always being there. Being confident he had her six, while she had his was endearing. It was quite a feeling to have another mind work so in sync with her own.

That syncronization has been off, way off, for the past eight months.

Elliot had taken a deep breath at the end of the first call, either tired of hearing about something he was done with in his life, or genuinely sorry for her, she couldn't tell. He had told her to take care of herself and he'd talk to her later. That was a month after he left.

He didn't call back again until two months later. It had been brief. He had told her he was feeling better. He just needed time to recouperate. He wanted to know how she and the squad were all doing and she simply replied they were all doing ok. She told him she hoped he was taking care of himself too, and he laughed quietly and said he was. Another brief silence swepted over the conversation until Elliot softly spoke up saying he missed seeing them all and told her good night and then he was gone. The line dead.

That was 5 months ago.

She hasn't heard a word from her partner, her former partner, in 5 months and she hasn't physically seen him in eight. It worries her that he hasn't called. She knows he is probably ok. He really isn't required to give her a play by play of what he's doing. What he is doing away from his former life, the job, her, is his own business she supposes. She still likes to know he still exists for her own sake. His calls, even though few and far between, have kept her sane.

But since that last call, she's had less time to worry about him. He'll never slip from her mind, ever. She just has more in her life now than she's had for awhile and having Elliot in it, even just in her memory, still makes everything else a bonus. She'll never completely shake him from her thoughts.

As the thoughts start to fade somewhat, Olivia lifts her eyes to the lump that forms a white mound of fabric in front of her.

The figure shifts a little bit in the covers and she smiles to herself. He'd been asleep already when she poured herself into bed. He hadn't stirred. It had been a late night at work for her dealing with a complicated case and she had hoped she wouldn't wake him coming in.

She shifts her body underneath the sheets trying to relax her muscles unable to keep the sheets from rising and falling over his torso.

He's wearing just his light blue cotton sleep shorts that drape mid way over his chiseled thigh and the elastic waistband stretches nicely over his taught abdomen. His own head burrows into the white sheath of a pillow and his short light brown hair scatters across the white.

The moonlight seems to brighten as a cloud dissipates across the sky, leaving his one cheek bathed in a silver tint showing off his light beard. It makes him looks staunt, keen and dominant even in his sleep. He's a very attractive man. When standing, he's about 6'2" and to any onlooker one could easily call attention to his slight resemblance to one of Olivia's favorite actors, Gerard Butler. He could easily pass for his brother. He's four years younger than she and looks extremely good for forty.

He has been a Godsend.

She had met him not long after the last phone call she recieved from Elliot five months ago. Eric Phillips had walked up to her at the bar down the street from her apartment. She had gone in to take the edge off because of a particularly tough case that day. He hadn't been shy in the least when he had asked her straight up if she would be interested in having a drink with him. At first she was weary of his intentions but she ended up learning alot about conversation that night had been an easy flow of words which she still vividly recalls.

He'd gotten off work early and had told her he often found himself there, just soaking in the scene or catching a game on the overhead television. He had told her he didn't really want to go home to nothing right away. He'd said he had just moved into his apartment which was only a few blocks from hers. Over their conversation she had picked up that he was single with no kids and that he came from a family who had owned a farm in Iowa.

A series of different jobs over his life made him find his way to New York City. He'd been here for 5 years working in a warehouse that stored plane parts. He'd explained how he had always wanted to join the air force but never got to it. He wasn't strict enough with himself he had joked with her.

Even though they had come from very different family situations and backgrounds, he being one of four children, while his parents ran the farm, they still had very much in common. They were only simple things, but significant enough for Olivia to take notice.

They had stayed at the bar and chatted for hours it seemed. He was very flirtatious and Olivia hadn't minded it one bit. She hadn't had the best of luck with men in the past and having someone immediately warm up to her was a welcome grace.

She had told him a few brief things about herself, one being that she was a cop, it's best to get that little tidbit out of the way she had thought to herself. She was floored when he had told her he could tell that she was and that's why he felt gravitated towards her when she walked in.

She had also explained her relationship status and why but he hadn't seemed to mind a bit. He had given her his number after all. Right before she picked up to leave, he slipped a wad of paper into her hand and said to give him a call, winking at her as she smiled back at him while walking out of the dimly lit bar.

After a few days, she had called the number and a second "meeting" had been set up at the same bar and here they were now, months later.

Olivia couldn't help feeling attracted and content with him then, and as she watches him sleep the familiar feeling creeps into her.

He lets out a soft grunt as he rolls over onto his side that is facing her, pulling on the sheets wrapped around both of their bodies. Despite the obvious tug in the sheets because of her form, he remains asleep, his shallow breaths steady and even.

She doesn't want to wake him but the overwhelming want to stroke his exposed cheek wins out. She takes her fingertips and runs them lightly along his jaw line feeling the stubble of his thickening beard. She's still getting used to having an extra body in her bed, or in her home for that matter she thinks.

He's been staying at her place for about two weeks now. He does go back to his place every so often to grab a new set of clothes, but her place ends up being his last destination for the night. Right now, he's working part time so he's at Olivia's apartment more and more.

She revels in the thought of possibly waking up and coming home to him for the rest of her life. It may be a too early to tell thing, but she's always wanted to get married and be a wife to a man she cared about deeply and who returned those feelings.

She may never have children, but having a husband could suffice. She just hopes that this will work out for a least a little while, if not longer. She's enjoyed having a masculine entity in her life other than Elliot for once. A protector of another sort. The one she can touch and feel without warning. The thought is sauntering to her. It's so easy to do so with someone she's only really known for a few months.

If only it wasn't such a complicated web with Elliot, she thinks. The forbidden touches. The unspoken rules. Boudaries.

Her thoughts quickly return back to the man lying in front of her, seemingly oblivious in sleep to feel her form directly in front of him.

She softly runs her knuckles over his other cheek that is faced down toward the bed. The feeling sends goosebumps across her skin as the prickly hairs run along her knuckles as each bone drags across the flaxen hair one by one. She closes her eyes letting sleep threaten it's way into her tuckered out body.

"You're home," his voice comes out of nowhere, deep and sleep laced .

"Mhmm," she purrs as she opens her eyes slowly caressing his face. He stares half awake blinking away the sleep as she continues. "I didn't want to wake you since it's one in the morning," she whispers to him with a small smile as eyes her try to droop closed again.

"You never called me," he whispers, ignoring her reason for not waking him. "I waited but ended up going to bed. I was a little worried." He looks up at her with a stern face as he shifts higher up onto the bed near the headboard, propping himself up on his elbow while looking in her direction.

"There was no reason to worry. I didn't have much free time to recieve or make any calls this evening anyways. I'm sorry I worried you though," she explains in a soft voice. She presses her hand into the sheets between them, looking at him beneath her eyelashes.

"You didn't have time to call," he adds matter of factly.

He looks at her for a second and she looks at him wondering what he's thinking."Yea, SVU is a rough place to work. I'd call you every chance I got if the opportunities were there," she grins flirtatiously. She keeps her eyes on him as he looks down at his hand propping himself up.

Shaking his head he adds,"Oh." He looks back up at her face again. "Just let me know next time, ok? I still worry, you can't blame me for that." His solemn expression slowly turns into a smile. "All is forgiven," he whispers in a cocky undertone.

Olivia sits up slightly, propping herself up on her own elbow looking at him and soaking in his words. She decides to give him the benefit of the doubt in his reasoning for this whole conversation. Maybe he just needs to get used to her job and what it requires. They've only been like this, him in her bedroom, in her life like this for a little over two weeks. It is possible this type of questioning is inevitable, she thinks to herself.

She lifts her eyes searching for his and when she finds his gaze, she gives him a slight nod as to agree with his acceptance of her vague "apology." She doesn't particularly like the way he is putting her at fault for something so minor and out of her hands but she assumes it's something they'll have to learn about each other as their relationship progresses.

She is a grown woman and independent as all hell and has been all of her life. She won't let this guilt trip happen on a regular basis. She wants to let him know because she really likes Eric. He treats her well and makes her feel good. He takes her out when he can and makes every fool of an onlooker jealous with his actions. He's given her all his free time possible and she can't ask for more. She's needed it. Someone.

She might even love him. Just maybe. She doesn't want this early tiff to go unnoticed. She decides to talk to him about that sooner than later. She falls back onto her side and slowly rolls onto her back staring at the ceiling.

"We had a tough case today, " she says in her normal voice. "Young girl was being abused by her step dad. He was also loaning her out to his neighbor friends. Mom of the little girl went nuts on us. Come to find out, the little girl was the product of her own mother's migivings." Olivia lays still for a second before turning her head toward Eric's unflinching form.

"Sounds terrible," he returns under his breath. He gently runs a hand along her exposed forearm. "Wanna talk about it?"

Considering talking about it lasts all but 5 seconds before she answers with a yawn. "No... it'll be ok. Too tired." She closes her eyes and rests her head closer to his.

"Hmm," Eric mumbles as he puts his palm flat against her bare arm. He glides it soothingly across the toned muscle of her arm. His slightly roughened skin and warm hands send chills over her body. He moves his lips close to her ear breathing heavily, each breath ruffling the hair around it. Pressing his lips against the flexible flesh of her ear he whispers harshly, "Too tired for this?"

He licks her ear lightly, moving his lips down the side of her cheek bone while running his palm down her arm. His hand stops but his mouth doesn't. He trails down her jawline, then towards her chin. Slowly he plants a soft kiss on her plush lips. She complies while keeping her eyes closed.

She soaks in his touch and kisses thinking about the time they've been together. Like always, Elliot pops into her head, but only briefly. She wonders what he's doing right now. Surely, not about to do what she is. That'll be too much of a coincidence. The thought of him while she's being intimate with another man frightens her a little bit.

Instead, she sings a tune in her head, that goes _I found someone, to take away the heartache, to take away the loneliness I've been feeling since you've been gone_. She laughs at herself on the inside and turns her head toward the man using his lips on her skin.

Before she has a chance to register the touch, Eric's moving his mouth toward her neck. He plants small kisses here and there, suckling the soft skin and biting every so often. She tenses with the light feel of his teeth, but then it's back to light brush strokes of his lips and tongue over the same area of her neck.

Her breath hitches in her throat as she tries to articulate words, "Would you try not to leave a hickey? I don't want to have to explain it to the other guys," she laughs softly. Goosebumps start to pop on her skin as his hands start to move again reaching for the exposed skin of her stomach just underneath the sheet. He runs his hand over her abdomen while never letting up on her neck. He makes his way a little lower capturing her clavicle in between his lips. He works his way all the way across to the other side of her chest before stopping.

"I wouldn't want them to suspect," he tries to say innocently all the while grinning.

She hasn't exactly told any of her collegues about her new beau, but she figures the time will come.

Olivia tenses up again as her thoughts fall to his lips ticking her skin with each need is there. The second he had latched onto the rigid bone in her chest, the throb went straight to her core. She gently opens her eyes and he's staring at her.

His eyes are dark despite the light green tint of them in normal light. He wants her, she can tell.

He stares for a few moments longer until Olivia reaches up her closest arm and cups his cheek bringing him down for a deep, wet kiss. She massages his lips with hers, gently running her tongue across his bottom one. He lets her roam his mouth slowly opening his, then pushing his own tongue into hers massaging hers.

He methodically begins to ease his body on top hers as she grabs his other cheek with her free hand, holding his face close to hers. "Make love to me," she whispers breathily. She can already feel his erection through his cotton shorts. It presses into her leg as she adjusts her body underneath his pure masculine build.

They've had sex before. In the second month of their relationship, they'd had a quick romp inside his apartment. It had been fast and quick, but not displeasing one bit up against the wall. He was big, and he filled her just a little bit too much to where it had mader her sore for awhile afterward but it had been exciting in every way.

They'd even had a quick incident in her apartment once too. Before she left for work one morning, he'd grabbed her from behind and made her scream in pleasure on her couch. She's surprised it hadn't awoken her neighbors.

But barring those two instances, work hasn't permitted much interaction between them recently, let alone time for him to actually make love to her instead of quick fucks. She was looking forward to this, right now. She's been taking her birth control regularly, so she doesn't worry, all she worries about is the building need for him to be inside of her.

He brushes the hair out of her face and slides his fingers through one of the straps of her tank top. He then pulls the other strap down and lowers the fabric down to her abdomen exposing her olive colored breasts.

Instantly, his mouth latches onto the right one lapping his tongue across her hardened nipple, tracing his tongue in a circle around the darker area. He brings her sensitized breast into his hot, wet mouth and suckles and licks as she rolls her head back into the pillow. A soft moan escapes as her back arches into his hips.

With that, every ache she felt when she first poured into the sheets, slowly melts away. Eric moves his mouth to her other breast groping and licking around her dark colored nipple.

Looking up, she watches him move above her in the silky, white moonlight still oozing through the blinds. He is so handsome, with his rugged facial features and that scratchy beard she just wants to run her hands over constantly and that wide set upper body, she can't ask for more in this moment.

She loves the way he treats her. So passionately, yet with dominace and with tactic. Tonight, right now, couldn't be any more perfect. Just them in her bedroom, along with the moonlight, the silence, other than her soft moans and his groans as he ravages her breasts, makes it all blissfully right.

With the way he was making her feel already with his hands on her, something tells her the silence will be shattered in a rough way, very soon.

He sits back on his knees with a thigh in between hers and stares down at her. A grin forms at the corner of his mouth as he plays with the elastic of her sleep shorts. "You're so beautiful, Olivia."

The way he always says her full name makes her tense again. She shivers as the cool air around them captures her skin in it's grip. Olivia looks into his eyes and smiles at his words silently aknoweledging him as he pulls her shorts down a little lower revealing her hip bones. "Mmmm," she moans as she watches his eyes slowly take in her body, catching his gaze with hers before he lowers his head slightly to hers.

"It drives me crazy when you look at me like that," he grunts with lust. With that she smirks and he wastes no time in yanking the shorts down her legs.

He takes in every square inch of her exposed flesh. Leaning down a bit, he arches her legs for her, writhing the cloth off from her lower body. He tosses the fabric to the floor before spreading her legs before him. Looking at his face, she can feel the worried expression she wears but hopes a hint of longing resides in it too.

The few men she had been with over the years hardly did this for her. They usually weren't there long enough for that. Some had left before daylight hit her sheets.

What he's doing is scary but in a gratifying way. He notices the hesitation in her facial features and before she can muster up anything to say, he smirks slyly and spreads her legs apart even more while they are still arched. He runs his palms down her inner thighs and rests them right outside her heated mound. As she watches him, her mind goes numb to the erotic sensation coursing through her groin. He massages her clit with his tongue and it's beyond anything she's ever felt. He slowly laps his tongue against her sensitive rise and then slides it down along her core.

She grabs ahold of the sheets to the side of her with each movement of his tongue. She can't breath from the tickling of his tongue. It's pure heat and bliss.

He notices her wet, heated core as he flicks his tongue once more. He relents for a split second to pull at his own shorts, snug because of his thick erection gasping for air in the tight fabric. He sits up on his knees allowing Olivia's spread legs close a little bit. As she watches him move above her legs, his wide set torso flexes and she can see the tiny tattoo on his right breast bone. It looks like a rose, but it's too dark to tell. She wonders why she hadn't noticed it before. It isn't very big, that's probably why, she thinks to herself. They'd been so in the heat of the moment in their previous intimate encounters, it must've slipped her attention.

His shorts are gone now, and she takes in his solid, thick cock standing up at the base of his hips. He's full and ready for her and her heart starts to pound. She's nervous this time, but she doensn't have much more time to ponder his length.

Before another thought can cross her mind, her legs are being spread open and in one not so gently thrust, he's inside of her. Olivia's head bows back and her mouth flies open to the physicality of his entrance. Before she even has time to adjust to his vaguely familiar size, he's pounding into her.

God, he was supposed to be making love, not fucking me to death, she thinks to herself. But, as quickly as the pinch started the pleasure starts to seep into her insides. He's got one palm pinned to the bed on each side of her breasts, her hands gripping his shoulders. With him nestled in the arches of her legs, he thrusts with vengeance and Olivia can feel every single one of them.

She quickly rolls her hips to divert some of the contact but he grips her hip, holding it down while moves inside of her walls, massaging this tense muscles and sensitive areas inside. The pace is so fast it still hurts a little bit, but as he shifts his hips and moves in circles she can feel the pleasure build up at the same time. She doesn't know if she's happy or sad about that. He's going so hard into her opening that she's going to come not even 5 minutes in and she knows just by his actions he's not going to be done when she comes. Having him pound into her while still recovering from her first orgasm is going to be brutal.

To her surprise, his hip action relents a bit and he begins rolling his hips forward. Olivia slides her hands down his sides and cups his ass cheeks. She can feel his full ass flex as he continues to roll his lower body forward, sliding his hard dick into her slippery insides.

"God, right there," she moans. It feels so good. She thinks about all the times she's read about how women describe orgasms. It's that sensation of an itch deep inside your walls that you can't quite scratch... well that's what it feels like as he grips her hips, hard, and continues his pulsating actions. The itch is getting stronger.

His pace quickens again and the harder he thrusts, the more she feels him sliding in and out of her.

She looks in between their moving bodies to see the shadow of his dick appear and dissappear like a magic act. After seeing him lose himself inside of her only briefly to pull back out a few times, he stops his actions. He pulls her close to his body, wrapping her legs around his hips. He kisses her lips then her chest before gripping her tightly and rolling them both over.

He's so dominant and controlling of his actions that she's surprised by his current movement. He's letting her ride him. At least, she can control the pace somewhat this way. She begins her hip action, lifting slowly and falling back down with just as much force. _Easy. _He is so big inside of her she still hasn't fully adjusted to him yet. As she rises and lowers her lower body, her palms rest on his tight stomach for leverage.

He watches below with hooded eyes as her body pumps up and down on him. He sees her plump, but not too plump, breasts bounce slightly with the tilt of her hips.

Feeling his climax coming, he grips Olivia's ribs underneath each breast hard, urging her faster and harder causing her hands to fall behind her gripping his upper thighs. She senses his need and reluctantly complies. She throws her head back all the while his hands are gripping her relentlessly as he now guides her up and down his hard shaft.

The walls of her bedroom capture his loud grunts of her full name and her moans of pleasure that ripple through her when the soarness subsides, confining the noises as if to save them for proof it happened.

She bounces on him for a few minutes until she feels that all to familiar sensation ripple through her core. She clenches around him, tightly, wishing he would come too. Any more of this and she won't be able to move for a week. To her liking, he thrusts a few more times through her tightness and shoots his seed deep inside of her. Her back arches one last time as he pulls her bare breasts against his chest, pressing them tightly together.

"Oh shit, Oivia!" He mumbles into her hair, muffling out the deep sound of his voice. "You were great," he commends softly against the skin of her shoulder.

Olivia lifts her mouth to his chin and kisses it lightly before rubbing her hands up and down his biceps. "Yea," she admits softly. "You were wonderful." She gives him a small grin and rolls off of his hips. He falls onto his back as they lay there for a second, panting heavily.

Almost contiguously, Olivia feels the after effects of what just happened just as she had expected. She shifts beneath the sheets turning toward the small night stand grabbing at her cell phone. Squinting at the bright light eminating from the phone, she sets her alarm for 6 am so she can shower and clean up before heading back to the precinct. They both end up dozing off within minutes and silence fills the bedroom.

The moonlight seems to glare down onto their bare skin as if to reflect what remains of their bodies after the _storm_.

Her alarm sounds abruptly at 6 am sharp. She notices the covers around her waist and her exposed breasts milked in sunlight.

As she shifts to grab her cell she can almost instantly feel the throb between her legs since it's only been a few hours since their _love making_. This could be an uncomfortable day at work, she thinks.

Trudging toward the bathroom for her shower, she notices Eric's sleeping form resting on his side. He looks peaceful. With that thought, she turns around and enters the bathroom closing the door quietly behind her. She chances a look in the mirror at her dishoveled hair and gasps in shock at the dark purple bruises underneath both of her breasts.

They were supposed to have had made love last night, and all she appears like right now is someone coming out of a night of rough sex. She gently rubs the dark skin and drops her hands with a sigh. She sort of feels beat up. If it wasn't for that intense orgasm Eric gave her she'd be a little worried. With that quickly going to the back of her mind, she slips into the hot spray of the shower washing away all evidence of the night before, well most of it. She'd feel him in between her thighs for awhile.

As quickly as she gets in, she is quickly standing back inside of her bedroom getting dressed. Eric slowly awakes as Olivia buttons up her black slacks. She doesn't know he's awake as he watches her scamper around her bedroom so she won't be late. She heads out the door and grabs her watch as she quickly turns to close the door behind her.

Before the door closes all the way, his voice vibrates in a low sing-song voice, "Don't forget to call me today."

She looks at him with hint of confusion in her expression. She doesn't answer him, just nods her head. He smiles brightly as she closes the door the rest of the way. She grabs her gun and shield out of the bureau in the living room and heads for the elevators that will take her down to the building's head entrance.

Hailing a cab, she thinks about Eric's last words. If he again expects her to drop everything just to call him, after what she told him last night, then he had another thing coming. She's not particulary mad or annoyed by his words, it just reminds her of the talk they need to have. She needs to explain some things. She needs space, even after the sex they had last night, they both have a right to their own space... and she needs some.

Shifting uncomfortably in the backseat of the cab, she stares out the side window all the way to the 1-6.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wowsers! I may have only gotten a few reviews for that first chapter, but the response I've been getting via subscriptions to this story speaks volumes... I'm guessing the first chapter made an impact and I'm truly floored by reviews mentioning exactly what I was going for. *Squeal* Lol. Just let me say one thing about it though...HOLY TYPOS BATMAN! I had to upload it again. Sorry about that. I lack a beta, so it's all me. So on with the story and thanks bunches to those who took the time to review... it really warms my little SVU heart when you do :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these sexy mofos... just the ones I create... damn shame. **

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><p><strong>If Walls Could Talk <strong>

_"It's dangerous  
>It's so out of line<br>To try and turn back time."_

**Chapter 2**

"I touched her soft skin... it was smooth and fair... just like her hair. She had silky, smooth hair. So, I ran my fingers through those shiny blonde curls... She wanted me to run my fingers through them. She told me through those little blue eyes, she didn't want me to stop. I know she wanted me to kiss her. I kissed her. Then I touched her. Her soft skin. She looked at me pleading for more, so I ran my hands down her body. She wanted me to slide my finger ..."

"Alright! That's enough," she exhales.

Sliding out of her chair that is situated at the heavy wooden table inside the interrogation room, Olivia stands up directly in front of Wilson Parker. Her eyes invade his pupils searching for a soul, answers, reasons, while her fingertips bore into the wood restraining her from strangling him right there.

She contemplates those actions for a split second but instead she simply stands, straightens her back and glares at him. No words can explain this lack of a human being. She cannot fathom listening to him, with that sleazy, altruistic choice of words much longer. He's enjoying it, the description of his sick mind. She longs to wrap her hands around his neck and show him what pain is. The same pain he caused that little girl. If only she could get the names of his accomplices, or whatever they are, before she does so. That would help. Yes, most definitely. If only he would give up the names of his neighbor buddies. Those sick bastards, she thinks to herself as her eyes widen and she tries to maintain composure.

She realizes she has a whole new species of scum she still hasn't found a way to dispose of yet. With that thought, her heart is in her throat. She can feel the pound of it in the veins of her neck, her wrists and even in her temples.

Cragen watches behind the two way mirror as his detective struggles to maintain herself and the situation. She's taking this case personally, he knows that, he's just not sure if she is comprehending it. He knows a little bit about Olivia's history and he knows what she is possibly thinking. It'd be wise of him to step in but he waits to see if she can work her magic as she normally does, or has done many times in the past.

But this isn't the past, he realizes. She isn't the same, he saw that the day the other half of her puzzle fell out of the puzzle box. No, it hasn't been the same for any of them. She can handle it though. He releases a deep sigh and continues watching. He'll just see where she takes this.

Taking a few deep breaths while focusing her gaze on the wall behind the perp. Her breathing and rage seem to subside a bit, well at least to the naked eye of her audience.

She strides around the table grasping Parker's dark green polo in her fists. She's never been one for rage, unlike her former partner, but she can't help but want to kick the shit out this prick.

"What is she doing?" Cragen questions her actions under his breath. He doesn't want go in there, but he's on the edge of his patience with her.

Olivia takes a step closer to Parker. He stares back at her with his wire rimmed glasses pushed firmly against the bridge of his nose. Olivia glares at him without speaking a word, without a breath. As she stands next to him contemplating her next move, a small smirk forms in the corner of his mouth. Olivia feels herself flinch and then her eyelid twitches.

_What the fuck does this prick think is so funny? _

She's slipping from the edge now. Falling further into her mind's rage. Something suddenly clicks and she's not sure who she is right now.

How dare he put his hands on that little innocent 5 year old girl? How dare he do that to the girl's mother? Why force their shattered family to repeat history? Wasn't the mother's rape that brought the young child into this world enough heartache for one lifetime?

Fin and Munch join Cragen outside the interrogation and continue to watch outside the two way mirror. As Fin is about to join his partner inside, Olivia does the unthinkable.

Gripping Parker's shirt even tighter, she leans her face closer to his trying not to breath in his rancid scent.

"Do you know what wood feels like," she questions him. He doesn't answer. "Well, I'm sure it's not pleasant," she quips. When he doesn't flinch, the last straw has been dealt in her mind. With one solid swing of her shoulders, his face slams against the wooden table below them. Her fists clutch his shirt with a death grip as she loses control, as she and her captain had feared.

"Tell me why you really did it? Why did you loan her out to your friends? Does it make you feel good to overpower an innocent child? Huh? Sick fuck! Oh, once we figure out who they all are, you're all going somewhere real special."

She pulls him up by the collar of his shirt slams him up against the wall with all her strength. Leaning in with her face only inches away from his grotesque ear, she breathes heavily as her her face flushes with rage. His glasses are pushed down his nose and his short brown hair, peppered with gray, splays across his his scalp unevenly. "Heeeeyyy... you can't do this..."

"What, is she some kind of play toy to you? She's an innocent child! You're going to rot in a cell somewhere where you'll be real popular with the regulars, or better yet, how about hell?" she growls under her breath.

In a blind fury, she kicks his legs from under him and he flails to the ground. As she is about to thrust her foot into his stomach, Fin and Cragen bust through the interrogation door.

Grabbing her by the waist and pulling her away from the perp sprawled out on the floor, Fin drags her a few steps away from him. "Hold up, Benson! Come on now, you know this doesn't look good."

Panting loudly as Fin sets her down off to the side, she gives him a death glare and starts toward the perp again until Cragen speaks up. "Out Benson! Fin will take over this case. My office now! That's an order!"

She takes a few deep breaths before moving. Each one of her breaths flip the strands of her more natural, shoulder length, dark brown hair out of her face. She swivels her body around and struts out of the interrogation room toward Cragen's office. Giving Fin a quick glance, Cragen turns around and follows Olivia.

**...**

Closing the door behind him once inside his office, he turns to Olivia giving her a solemn look before he speaks.

"Cap, I can expla-"

"Save it Olivia. You're off the case. It's too personal for you..."

"Cap, I'm sorry about what happened in there but you gotta let..."

"I need you to let Munch and Fin take it from here," he cuts her off. "You're lucky I'm not penalizing you for your actions in there, Olivia. You need to get your head on straight or I'll force you to take some time off or... ."

"Cap'n," she looks toward the floor now as his words start to sink in. The furor she was just sporting only a few seconds ago, slowly dissolves into her more analytical demeanor. "I need to work this case. I just got a little over my head for a second," she pleads with her palms outstretched like she does so often toward an uncivilized perp. "I can handle it, let me..."

"No, decisions already been made. You're too close..."

"Cap, what do you mean? I'm too close... all I need is a few more minutes with him and then he'll rat out his neighbor buddies who are in on it," she pleads motioning her hands toward the interrogation.

"You know what I mean," he spews harshly. "You're too close. Fin and Munch have it now."

She looks at him quizzically wondering how in the world she is too emotionally involved in this. Running through the details of the case, she ponders a few that he might be referring to. As quickly as the thoughts come, it hits her. The realization hits her like a ton of bricks. She leans her back against the office door and stares at her captain in amazement. She's too personally involved?

She is too emotionally involved, she explains to herself.

This little girl, reminds her of herself in a way. The child was a product of her own mother's rape. Why hadn't she put two and two together before? That's where all that pent up rage came from she imagines, plus everything else that runs through her mind constantly. Her life. Her partner. Work. A lack of control. The control she gained from her partner. Former partner. As silly as it sounds, she partially blames her lack of realization on him. She wouldn't have reacted that way if he were there.

She shakes her head without speaking. Elliot had been her grounder. He had pulled her back when she needed it and she did the same for him. It was just a natural rapport they had and had gained virtually from the day they met.

It was frustrating to her how fast that communication and knowing could slip away and for her to feel so out of control. This is the first time in months she's felt incapable. Unable to do the things she drove herself to do the last 12 years, shifts her whole being. What is she doing?

Now that he isn't there, she hasn't felt that tug that brings her back to reality. It's diminishing. The whole thing is diminishing... to her being, to her abilities, to her confidence as a cop.

It's not fair that he leaves and she's stuck here second guessing her abilities and herself in general while he goes soul searching.

While taking a deep breath, she stares straight at Cragen. He stares back reading her realization that flows freely across her features. Her shoulders slump and her eyes search his face for an answer which she realizes he doesn't have.

Her captain has noticed the same things she has been feeling. His detective is missing something. Her balance. Her capacity to do work. Her other half. It hurts him to see it happening but there is little he can do. She seems defeated but he knows she'll never let on that is he is or that she could be on the brink.

She chews on her bottom lip with her hands on her hips.

Ok, she can do this, she thinks to herself. She ponders letting Munch and Fin carry the rest of this out because she knows she could end up doing something to compromise the whole situation. She'll never do that, she can't let a handful of men responsible for hurting this child and her mother will walk free. She _can't _let her personal feelings affect this case. Not now, not ever.

Snapping Olivia from her thoughts, Cragen speaks up, "Liv, I need you to go talk to the girl's mother. See what you can get out of her and maybe she can give you some of the men's names that live in and around their apartment. Once you're back, you're done..." Cragen orders in a softer tone.

Olivia stands there staring at the particularly fascinating black spot on the floor. Adjusting her stance, she bites her lower lip and nods absently as Cragen watches her. Before he can utter another word, she is heading toward her desk, grabbing her keys from off the corner and heading toward the elevators. Cragen sighs and shakes his head half-heartedly. As he watches the elevator enclose his detective, he sighs for the one millionith time that morning and heads back toward the interrogation room to see how his two other detectives are coming along.

...

The warm air caresses her skin as she walks toward the sedan parked outside of the precinct. The sun is out full force today, peaking out more than enough from behind sporadic cumulus clouds hovering over the city. A bead of sweat rolls down her temple as the thickness of the humidity makes itself known. She rolls the sleeves up on her brick colored blouse, wishing the NYPD allowed attire other than the thick fabric of her black work pants. It's mid April, but the air has been exceptionally warm of late she's noticed. Has been for the past week or so.

Today, she reasons with herself, is a day of self recognition. Self finding. She's found herself in one hell of an emotional rut. When she lost that little bit of self control she had left back there is beyond her. Hopping into the driver's seat she looks into her side mirror and slowly pulls from the curb.

While driving toward Sheila Coleman's apartment she thinks about the last few months. She thinks an awful alot these days in the sedan. More times than not, she prefers to interview alone. Most times she is refused but on the rare occurance that is she is permitted, she does most of her thinking here.

Her gaze shifts immediately to the empty seat next to her.

She's not going to lie to herself. It tears at her heartstrings that Elliot isn't there sitting next to her as she drives them to their destination, whereever that may be. She hears him chatting about his kids and how they are doing in school. Sometimes he'd mention Kathy and say she joined a new book club. She goes to a meeting every so often if she gets home from her new job early enough. She remembers smiling when he'd mentioned Kathy getting a new job once. She was happy for her and them. They were determined people and that's what they fed off of she imagined.

Then her mind wanders to what he's doing right that second as she remembers doing the night before. Is he with his family? She can't imagine him not being with them. But, you never know she tells herself. She coasts in the sedan closing in on her destination. She's not looking forward to this. Who would be in her situation? Cragen believes in your questoning abilities still, she reminds herself, so keep your composure with this woman. You can't break in front of her. Gotta keep professional. This. Is. Your. Job.

_But she's like your own mother. _

She quickly tries to think of something else as she nears the apartment of Ms. Coleman. Her thoughts go back immediately to Elliot, even if she wants them to or not. It's a never ending battle there.

Slowly, those memories fade as she nears the apartment complex. Pulling to the curb, she turns the engine off and just sits there for a second. Her mind is reeling from everything going on in her life right now and what isn't. She decides to do something different. She decides to go over the things that _are_ going for her since she just got done with the things that are not.

Instantly, she goes over the events of the previous night with Eric. She had gotten home late and her heart had jumped into her throat the instant she saw him in her bed sound asleep.

He's been that missing puzzle piece in her personal life that she's been missing for a long time, she feels. Or, she thinks he is. He's everything she needs right now. He's a strong entity. He's that special gift giver that keeps on giving when all is said and done. Well, he has been for the past 5 months.

She actually enjoys going home to her apartment now knowing someone's going to be there. Eric is something, she thinks to herself and she can't help feeling childish, but she has a boyfriend. A friend. A warmth to cuddle up to at night and she's happy.

Other than today, she has been content to come into work. The way he makes her feel, almost makes her forget where she's going when she leaves each morning. That feeling lasts until she gets there but then things change and that's another story. She's glad one aspect of her life is turning around even if the other decides to take the other road. Her personal and professional lives have never really been in sync and that's ok. She'll take each good thing that comes her way one day at a time.

She sits for a few moments longer in the car watching the passerbys swarm from street to street in front of her carrying on with the same urgency Manhattan always has.

Stepping out of the car she stretches her out her limbs as she prepares to walk the short half block to her destination. Torrents and torrents of people litter the street and she can't help wonder if Elliot is out there somewhere among the many nameless and faceless people.

No, she thinks. No, she would feel him.

She could almost instantly feel his presence when he walked into a room in the past. She felt him around before she even saw him or heard him.

It's quite frightening when she thinks about it. She never really thought about it before, it was just an in the moment kind of thing while they were partners. It was a natural occurance that she just couldn't help. It was just there.

As she walks to the corner of the street, cars and cabs swoop around street signs and traffic stops in a flurry of action. She pauses to take in a couple with a young child standing there waiting for a chance to grab a taxi in the myriad of onlookers looking to do the same.

As she watches them flail their arms and wave a taxi down, her gaze wanders slightly beyond the street to a building that intersects perpendicular to the one she is on and sees a newer building she hasn't really paid attention to before. She watches people come and go from the front entrance wondering what they could possibly be up to on this rather warm day as the city bustles with activity. She watches as men and women of all ages pass through the glass doors seemingly oblivious to her watching. She is about to turn her attention away when she sees a rather masculine figure come out of the front glass doors sporting a seemingly light weight, long sleeved, grey colored tshirt with light colored jeans on. His hair is short to where it's almost bald and he has a light goatee from what she can tell. His physical build is so strikingly familiar to her she gets that bubbling sense in the pit of her stomach. No one she knows really has those types of characteristics except one person.

Elliot.

As she strains her eyes to watch the figure, he stops at the entrance by some brick pillars used as decoration. She watches him pull out what appears to be an IPhone while he feels for the edge of one of the shorter brick pillars so he can lean against it.

No, it can't be him, she thinks. He's sitting there seemingly going through something on his cell phone. Her curiousity has gotten the best of her and as she walks initially to cross to the next block to where she had intended, she instead walks to the other side of the street to where she can get a closer view of what she thinks, hopes, is Elliot. She doesn't want to get her hopes up. It's almost foolish to her to think he'd still be in the city, this close to her still. He's been this close and she hasn't seen him in 8 months? Looking more closely at the male she almost wants to assume it is him.

A nervous feeling resonates in the pit of her stomach as she feels the weight of her own cell phone in her pocket. She thinks maybe of giving him a call. If it's him, she'll be able to notice when he answers. She has his number from the times he's called her and for a split second she contemplates doing exactly that.

_Call him. _

She blinks a few times trying to clear her vision to maybe help her zoom in but it's to no avail. She fumbles in her pocket for her cell and as she opens it she sees a very clear reminder of the night before. Not only a mental reminder, but yet another emotional one. Eric's missed call while she was still at work lights up her phone as she remembers his insistence she call him to let him know how she is doing. She huffs at the insistence but still finds if cute of him to feel the need to know she is ok. He's worried is all, she thinks. As she catches a glimpse of the time, 10:45 am, she realizes it's only been a little over 3 hours since she's seen him. She kind of misses him.

With that last assessment, she decides to not call Elliot's number. She really doesn't need that stress right now. What if he had picked up, she questions herself. They wouldn't have been able to talk since she is on the job. She could have just left a message, explaining she just wants to see how he is but she doesn't want to impose. He's the one who hasn't called her in months.

As she remembers distinctively sensing something, someone, a presence around her that she remembers, she glances back toward the single storied brick building from a few minutes ago searching out the masculine figure. The man is gone. Possibly, Elliot. Maybe gone for good. She scolds herself for being so afraid of what could have happened. She's tired of how indecisive she can be. It's irritating beyond belief and there is nothing she can do right now. She has a job to do.

But first, call Eric, she thinks. She slides open her cell phone again, clearing the missed call and calls her home phone. She knows Eric is there. He should be awake. For some reason, having thought she just saw Elliot, shakes her a bit. She's a little eager to talk to Eric. Hopefully, this is what he wants, needs, from her.

Thinking about the talk they need to have, she remembers his urgency in wanting her to call him while she's at work. This morning drums into her senses as she remembers his voice deep and demanding.

_Don't forget to call me today._

Talking to him about personal wants and needs is the furthest from her mind right now. He just needs to understand. She was fine with him last night, coming home, sleeping with him. She was happy about their situation, their relationship. She still is but this morning at work, well she doesn't know what that was. She needs to somehow blend her feelings from her personal life and absolve some of the chaos at work or there is going to be dire consequences. She can't lose grip on her work ethic. It's not acceptable, for her, and not fair to everyone else.

When she started this job, no one, not her, not her coworkers, nor Cragen could have know how much her and Elliot would become one in the same. It's impossible to just do life after losing that piece of a whole. God, she has got to grow up, she thinks. Just go and knock on the fucking door and do what you do, she tells herself.

Elliot's gone. Get over it. Look at what you have back home, she tells herself. That's alot easier said than done.

She huffs out a breath and listens to the sounds around her.

The sound of her cell phone ringing breaks her daze as she looks back across the street once again. She can't help it. She can tell herself all she wants to move on and let Elliot be, but she can't help but keep scolding herself for losing sight of the man who was sitting just right over there. He was right there. Not knowing if it was him or not almost makes her angrier than not having the courage to get closer. Make contact. What she wouldn't do to see him in person again. It's been too damn long. At the thought a deep voice resinates in her ear.

"Hey babe, miss me already?"

"Hey Eric and of course. Just giving you a call. I'm out on duty can't talk long so I'll seee you when I get home, ok?"

"Oh you're on duty," he exclaims at realization. "Well you could have waited til you get back to call me babe," he concedes.

"Well you seemed to want to know how I was last night so I thought I'd do it while I was thinking about it," she smiles to herself thinking how incredibly negated she sounds. She doesn't have to call him. He's lucky she can while on duty. She sighs and shifts her stance a little. "Well, I'll talk to you later. I'll see ya when I get home."

"Ok... be careful. I want you in one piece tonight," he chimes in a husky voice and she can hear the grin behind it.

She shifts her stance again, "Yea, I will be," she laughts softly while listening to his light breathing on the other end.

"Ok, bye then... Oh wait, umm you want to do dinner tonight? I mean if you get home early enough. I'd like to take you to this great restaurant only a couple of blocks from your place."

"Umm yea," she chides enthusiastically. She smiles brightly through the phone in her hand. She can feel that he senses it also because with her answer he laughs on the other end.

"Ok, then. Sounds like a date," he responds just as enthusiastically. "And umm Miss Benson, don't be late," he adds with a small laugh.

She smiles again to herself and laughs at his corniness. This is what she has. Things are not strained with them. She needs to open up more.

_I need to let go and stop letting tiny things get the better of me. Stop thinking too much about your indepenedence and live a little, she tells herself. It's the least you can do with what you have. _

Before answering, she smiles that perky half smile of hers as she watches the city dwellers pass her on the sidewalk.

"Ok, Mr. Phillips. I'll see you tonight. I'll call you when I get ready to head out. Bye babe."

Laughing through the phone in her ear in that dark husky voice again he retorts, "Ok, bye beautiful... I'll be waiting."

**S/N: The lyrics.. yea, I don't own. R&R? :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own. **

* * *

><p><strong>If Walls Could Talk <strong>

**Chapter 3**

_**THUD! **_The wall reverberates from the impact while a few pictures and wall decorations shift in their places.

THUMP! THUMP! The sound of flesh against dried paint sounds through the enclosed space between two bodies.

Her skin slides up and down the rough sand paper like wall, mixing pleasure and pain as she tries like hell to keep her cries to herself.

**7:02 P.M.**

_She wouldn't bet on it, but she'd guess she'd only been in her apartment for roughly thirty seconds before she had been ravaged. With the swift actions that had taken place, she had had just enough time to flick the front door closed with her fingertips before her body had been compressed to the front wall of her apartment. _

_She'd gotten off work 20 minutes before and had headed home as fast as she could. She had remembered Eric's dinner proposal and wanted to get home so she could change out of her work apparel and into something more relaxing and form fitting for a night out at dinner. _

_But before she had a chance to even register her surroundings, she had been shoved against the wall and two sets of hands and legs were intermingling with each other. _

_Eric's lips had pressed tightly against hers as her eyes widened at the sudden intensity of the kiss. He had her pinned to the wall with one leg in between hers keeping her in place. He gently undid the buttons of her work shirt lowering it to the ground. _

_Breaking away from the kiss Olivia had fumbled with his hands to slow his actions. "Guess you missed me huh," she had questioned him breathily. _

_A deep growl had come from deep in his throat as he continued to undress her. Slowly he peeled her solid white cami from her, lifting her arms as he removed the garment. Silently, he reached in between their bodies and undid the zipper of her work pants, sliding them down her legs to expose her tensed up thighs._

_As she had gripped his bare forearms, he lifted one of her legs pulling the material from it then switching to the other and removing the pants the rest of the way. "Mmm, thought I'd give you some help," he mumbled into her neck as she let go of his arms to lower her black silky thong to the floor. _

_He gripped her bare ass in his hands pulling her flush against him. He was only clad in a pair of solid black sweat pants. His exposed upper body pressed tightly against her bra claden chest to where she had no where to look but at his face. _

_She kissed under his chin and slowly moved her hands up and down his forearms. With a quick lick to his neck she easily began to ease her way from his grasp retorting as she began to gather her clothing, "Thanks, you've been a great help," she smirked as she began to head to her bedroom. _

_"Aw no ya don't," he had replied playfully as he came up behind her and picked up her nearly naked form. _

_"Eric, what're you doing?" She giggled as he swooped her from behind off of her feet. "Come on," she said teasingly, "I need to get ready for our dinner date or we're going to be late! And so do you. And what's with the sweatpants lately?" She patted his arm as he let her feet touch the ground again. _

_"Uggh, alright, but what's wrong with my sweats? You said I looked sexy in sweats," he'd pouted. _

_"You do babe, now let's get dressed. We're already going to have a late dinner. And to be honest, I'm starving," she purred as she begun to turn around._

_As she reached for the door knob she had felt warmness encircling her abdomen and she was being pulled back again. He growled into her ear, "Mmm, I'm starving too..." _

_He had pulled her back against him and then tugged her gently toward the wall by the front door again. He had easily pressed her back against the wall looking down at her staring back at him with a hint of humor mixed with annoyance in her expression. Yes, she was amused by him sometimes and his ability to command a need from deep within her. He licked his lips as he watched Olivia squirm under his gaze. She looked up at him with those glossy dark brown eyes that seemed to want to fulfill the need just as he. At least that's what he had seen._

_Nothing like sex before going out to dinner._

_He had taken both of her hands, causing her to drop her clothing again, pinning both of them above her head. He used his other hand to lower his sweats farther down his hips. As he had inched toward her shivering body, the sweatpants fell all the way to his ankles revealing his throbbing manhood. _

_Olivia's pulse had quickened ten fold as he inched closer. Well twice in twenty four hours is an approvement but let's just hope I can walk after this she had thought. _

_Within seconds he was maneuvering them both clearly ready to take her against the wall of her apartment. _

_It had happened quick as he grabbed her thighs as he hoisted her legs around his hips, spreading her for him. He had released her arms and she instantly grabbed him around his neck. _

_Let the games begin she had thought. _

_In one quick motion forward, their bodies were molding into one as he moved inside her walls. Her back had thumped against the wall that released a sound resembling a small snare drum. She hadn't been able to help it but loud moans and cries had escaped her throat as he thrust inside her at a hard and steady pace. _

_Minutes had come and gone as the sounds bouncing off the walls continued and their reservation had sat in the balance. _

_This is going to be an interesting night she had thought._

**...**

**8:25 P.M.**

"You know, we could stay in tonight for dinner," Eric offers as he holds the elevator door open for Olivia. "Because, I know it's been a long day and I know you wanna relax," he adds coyly.

Olivia gives him a quick peck on the lips as she gets on the elevator waiting for him to join her. "No, no we're going out to dinner. You wanted to so we're going," she smiles giving him a small wink. "Besides, I'm really looking forward to the place you picked out. What's the name again?"

"_Isabella's_"

"Oh, then I'm glad I wore something presentable," she tosses at him as she motions down to her black knee length dress that she keeps in the back of her closet for opportunities such as this one. God forbid she gain any wieght or lose too much or the little black dress would be useless. She'd gotten it on sale at the mall with Casey a few years ago. It was quite an attractive piece of material with its sheath sleeves that came down right at the end of her shoulder and start of her upper arm. The addition of her black heels, accentuated the overall look. Her hair is tossed into loose waves and her make-up is just a touch of lip gloss and some eyeliner.

"You look stunning Olivia," replies Eric not caring as he gives her appearance a once over. "A friend of mine from work recommended this place, I hope you like it. I really wanted us to have a nice night out. You seem so over exerted with work that we've hardly had alone time out like this," he adds with a deep voice looking down at his own dark blue, long sleeved, woven dress shirt and black dress pants.

"I know babe," she says sliding her focus to the numbers above the elevator doors, slowly inching to the left as they descend lower and lower to the ground floor. It's kind of ironic. She was just on one hell of a high a few seconds ago, and now they are slowly approaching the ground. She's coming down from her high so she can eat, she chuckles to herself. These are the kinds of things she thinks about when with Eric. A nice reprieve indeed when coming home from the SVU. "We're going to have a good night together," she throws over her shoulder as the elevator doors open and she steps off into the lobby. He follows quickly behind her as they set off into the brisk night to head to _Isabella's. _They hail a taxi and it drives them off to Columbus Avenue.

...

As she is about to lift another forkful of her dinner into her mouth she states, "I choked today."

"What do you mean," he asks looking up at her and nearly choking on his on food because of her blatant statement.

"I just, I don't know. I went overboard for a second at work today and almost took our perps head off in interrogation."

"What, Miss Olivia Benson, the nuturing one, was out of line today?" He chuckles softly looking at the serious look on her face.

"I'm serious, I've never felt like that before." She looks down at her plate as she scrapes her fork across the ceramic dish. "I mean I've gotten mad before, even overwhelmed plenty of times but I almost forgot what I was doing today. I, this guy, you know the one I briefly mentioned last night, just got under my skin. He felt no remorse. I couldn't grasp what I was doing until Cragen pulled me out of there." She shakes her head and picks up another bite of her shrimp.

"Olivia, everyone is entitled to those kind of days. Hell, if we didn't, there might be something wrong with us," he tries to joke light heartedly. He pats the top of her knuckles still holding her fork soothingly.

She smiles at his way of trying to lighten the air. That's the thing with him. He is always trying to make her laugh. Always when she's down he has some light, witty remark to make even though he tends to get cocky with it sometimes. But she doesn't mind entirely. It helps most of the time. He's been doing it since she met him at that bar and that's what attracted her to him. His dark, tough demeanor is what she loves. It feels right, familiar.

They sit silently, eating their dinner for a few moments both taking in the scene. Isabella's is a nice restaraunt near Central Park. It has a nice spacious feel to it, with many white and checkered colored table clothes donning each table and booths on each wall. Beautiful chandelier lights dangle from the ceiling as soft music plays from what appear to be speakers built into the ceiling. Eric silently thanks his friend from work for mentioning such a nice place to take Olivia. He had wondered how she would like it and she seems to be enjoying it. She silently picks up her empty seafood dish and puts it off to the side as she realizes he's staring at her.

"So," she propositions, trying to change the subject, "how was your day? Get any news on your job? I mean it's getting kind of ridiculous seeing you in sweatpants everytime I walk into my apartment," she jokes with him with a smile.

"You know me, my farm roots call for relaxing clothes after a hard days work. I get up, walk to the kitchen, get some coffee, walk to the living room, turn the television on, watch some television, do some dishes and yea... that's hard work," he smiles broadly at her as he catches a glimpse of the way the over head lights capture the silky waves of her golden brown hair. "The sweats do come in handy, especially like this evening," he speaks lowly as he grins watching her blush a bit.

She laughs and turns it around on him. "So, that's what your parents would say is hard work. They raised a son that does a great job of drinking coffee and watching television until he can't see straight?" She smiles again and pats his hand. "They must be proud," she jokes with him.

He looks up and grins. "Proud as they can be," he smirks at her. Slowly his demeanor becomes a little more serious as he pushes his empty plate to the side as well."Um, well actually what I really wanted to mention is that I did call around today. I uh, maybe found something better than what I had." He shifts in his seat a bit. "It's a good paying job," he states shaking his head as he takes a drink of his drink.

"Well, that's great!" Olivia reaches over the table and pats his hand again as he looks up from his glass still positioned on the table.

"Yea," he hesitates as he watches her glance up at his sudden stop, "I'm thinking if I get the job, I'll move again. Into something more spacious," he adds as he watches her glance up from her plate with a look on her face that he hasn't really seen before. He's thinking it's a little bit of doubt or maybe curiousity. He's not sure.

Chewing her food slowly before speaking, her eyebrows arch as she attempts to speak clearing her throat first. "Well, I'm happy for you. You should be comfortable" she attempts to say as to brush off the semi obvious notion of wanting to move into something more _spacious_. With work and all, she's not sure how to even reply to his notion.

He continues to look at her as she chews the last bit of her dinner expecting a little more of a response than what he got. He raises an eyebrow and sits his fork down on his plate that sends a soft _clink_ noise over their table. She can feel him staring at her. That feeling you get when someone is waiting for you to defend yourself. Not always a good feeling she chides to herself.

"What do you think abo-," he starts to say as she suddenly scoots back in her chair on the smooth linoleum floor.

She looks back at thim from across the table and sighs. "Uh, I'll be right back. Ladies room."

She stands up and pats down her dress as he stares quizzically. As she heads toward the bathroom entrance she replays his words in her mind. What if he wants you to move in with him she asks heself. It's too soon. It's way too soon. He's been at your place only two weeks. Only two weeks of living together. If that's what you want to call it she reasons with herself. Talk to him. Tell him whatever he's thinking that it's too soon when you get back to the table she pleads with herself.

She cares for him, she really does. She's mixed up emotionally is all. She wants to let this go farther but something in his words seem final. Like he was trying to grasp something more in depth from her. Something she wasn't expecting quite yet.

As she shuffles through the a maze of checkered colored table cloths, she looks around at the other patrons seemingly enjoying a late dinner as she and Eric. She watches as some people line up to be seated, as some giver their orders and as some eat alone quietly.

Something catches her eye as a grayish-blue colored material pops out of a booth at the far end of the wall from where she's standing. The color reminds her of the NYPD t-shirts she has seen all too often in her career. She has a few of her own. Some were hers from working out, some were her partners when she'd steal one from his locker after a late night in the gym.

Suddenly, she gets that eerily familar feeling in the pit of her stomach. Like someone she knows is lingering near her. Like someone is watching her. Waiting for her aknoweledgment. The booths are positioned off to her right and dining tables on her left and as she continues her trek through the crowds of people waiting for seats and waiters shuffling through the crowd trying to get to their designated locations, she is stopped when a hand grabs her left shoulder. She stops in her tracks as she turns around to meet the young man's stare.

"Hey, ma'am you dropped this," he offers as he holds up a small silver pendant. It must've fallen off her charm bracelet she registers in her mind. She smiles and takes the silver pendant shaped as a dove from his hand.

"Oh, thank you, I didn't even realize it fell off," she replies closing her fist around the tiny object and lifting her hand as to signify its importance.

"No, problem ma'am. You have a good night," he nods and heads off toward some tables with mutliple orders to be taken.

She begins her trek again and returns her gaze toward the area she saw the grayish-blue familiarity. She can't see that far all the details of every person dining in that area, but as she nears the restrooms which are next to wall of booths, she notices someone in particular sitting alone in one of the booths. "Oh my God," she mutters under her breath. She watches the person go about business, seemingly content on eating dinner, alone.

Thoughts rummage through her mind as she pushes past people in the short distance in between tables.

But before she even makes it half way there to the restrooms are, her focus on that one booth and getting to the restroom become hindered. A crowd of people waiting to be dined at a family sized table gather in front of her temporarily blocking her way and cloud of vision. As they manuever around she stands up on her tippy toes to see above them but the crowd in front of her and another small crowd obstruct her vision even more as she tries to snake her way through the people. She makes her way toward the open floor near the entrance and glances back toward the booth she just had her attention on.

She can't believe it.

It's empty. The boothe. Again. It couldn't have been more than five minutes since she'd been distracted. Something in the back of her mind wants to yell at her for being so hopefull she'll find something that was never there, and another wants to be hopefull that something was there and she just missed her window, again.

With a huffed sigh, she completely forgets about the restrooms which she only intended to go to as to avoid Eric's conversation involving a new job, new apartment, yadda, yadda, she thinks to herself. She turns around and heads back toward her table still clutching the pendant tightly in her hand.

As she sits back down at the table, Eric simply stares at her. To him, she looks exasperated and he doesn't know why. "That was quick."

"Hmm? Oh yea.. the bathroom is backed up, it's really crowded tonight. Umm, how about we finish our desserts and head on out?" She offers him a quick smile as she drops the silver object on the table and begins removing the bracelet from her wrist.

"Ok, sounds good to me," he agrees. He watches her fiddling with her bracelet and smiles as she concentrates hard at the tiny pendant in her fingertips. "Hey, uh what's that," he motions to her hand.

"Oh, it's a trinket that went to my bracelet. It fell off, see?" She points to the empty space on her bracelet. "And, I can't seem to get it back on... it's so small."

"Hmm, let me see," he offers. He takes it in his hands and examines it for a few moments before putting it back on the small ring it fell off of with ease. He looks up at her with a smirk. "What, I have a knack for this I guess."

Laughing softly she motions for it. "Either that or well I don't even know how to respond to that," she jokes as she leans over the table waiting for him to meet her halfway for a kiss. He does as he runs his hand over the bracelet keeping a light grip on her arm as he positions himself back on his side of the table.

"Ha ha, Benson. It's beautiful though. Where'd you get it?"

She smiles to herself as she slides it up her wrist. "Um, it was a gift," she replies honestly, "I've had it for a couple of years. Christmas," she adds softly.

"Oh yea? From who may I ask? I mean whoever it's from has good taste obviously," he smiles.

"Well, it was a Secret Santa Gift. I wasn't entirely positive who it was from at the time but now I'm pretty sure it was from..."

She stops mid sentence as she drops her hands to the table.

Elliot.

She stares at Eric with a blank expression. He's confused by her sudden change in expression. "What's wrong, Olivia?"

Slowly, she lowers her gaze to her arm and blinks a few times. "Uh, it's nothing I just remembered something." She pauses. "It was a gift from my former partner. I guess I just forgot is all." Smiling she gives him a wink and looks at the dessert menu.

"Ahh gotcha. Babe, it's beautiful. She must have liked you huh?"

"Well, I'd hope so since I was stuck with HIM for 12 years."

Back 3 years ago, she couldn't imagine what had gotten into him to buy something so intricate and thoughtful. She had thought it had been his wife who had picked it for him since he knew who he was supposed to by for. But a few days later she had brought it up to Kathy when she had stopped by at the precinct, she had no idea what Olivia was talking about. Olivia had felt a blush creep into her face. Maybe it wasn't Elliot, she's thought. But, as the day went on he had kept asking her how she liked it and she kept giving him the same answer that she loved it. She would wear it all the time. He simply smiled and looked back down to whatever he was doing.

Snapping her out of her short lived memory, Eric clears his throat staring at her with slightly slanted eyes. "Oh." He points to her bracelet. "A HE got you that. A man? Hmm, so do I have competition out there somewhere?" He smirks at her as she looks back up to meet his gaze.

"Oh, ha ha, he was my partner, as in work partners," she laughs half heartedly.

"Yea, ok," he replies smiling and seemingly unconvinced.

"What? Come on Eric," she laughs. "He was married."

She'd never admit it, but she always liked the speculation about her and Elliot. At least she was getting some action from him in someone's mind she jokes with herself. It wasn't an all the time thought but she especially enjoyed it when things went awry in her personal life.

"Oh so if he wasn't, you two'd uh, you know?"

"Please," she squints at him. "Let's please not talk about this while we're on a dinner date," she pleads laughingly.

"Ok," he simply answers. He looks down at his dessert menu as Olivia watches his curiousity diminish slightly. A few seconds pass as they both ponder what to order for dessert. The mumblings of other customers having converstions sift through the brisk air of the restaraunt. People are coming and going as Olivia looks back up toward the booth she was plagued by earlier. Now it's occupied by a family seemingly having a night out together. She wonders if her former partner's family still does the same. She still doesn't know alot of things since he left. The thoughts almost consume her mind when Eric speaks up clearing his throat."What are you thinking," he asks quietly. He has a concerned look on his face as she looks up at him but just shakes her head. A silent moment passes before he clears his throat to speak. "So, I think I'm going to get the Lemon Meringue."

Just as those words come out of his mouth he is dumbfounded by her sudden rush of words.

"I think I saw him today."

"Who?"

"Elliot," she replies with a steady voice.

He doesn't understand at first. But sees the deep look in her eyes at the revealing of the name. He immediately puts the pieces together and realizes she's talking about her partner. Her former partner. Elliot. Elliot is HIS name he thinks to himself. Well he's not sure what her history is with Elliot, but he can tell there is emotion in her revelation about seeing him. Or thinking she did. What emotion exactly, he's not sure. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat confused as to what to say, he looks back up at her expectantly. Then he finally comes up with something on his own. "Oh," he confides, it's all he can think of. He doesn't know why but a sudden pang of curiousity springs from inside him. "So... how close were you with him? Elliot I mean. Aside from what we discussed a few minutes ago?"

She simply looks up from her menu and meets his gaze for a few seconds not blinking, the brown of her eyes glistening in the over head light. She sits the menu down and folds her hands together before replying.

"Close," she simply replies as she shakes her head. A few more seconds pass as he watches her expression change from her previous emotion to a now more relaxed demeanor. "I think I'm going to get the Chocolate Mousse."

**S/N: Sorry for the long wait.. hopefully there is somone still reading this. Writer's block can be a bit- well yea. lol. Reviews make my world go round... well they make me happy. What do you think? What do you think is going to happen? Is it Elliot she keeps seeing or imagining seeing? What does Eric think of Olivia's former partner? Give it a guess in a review.. we'll know soon enough ;D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, here it is. An update. Hopefully we're getting somewhere huh? Lol. This hasn't been beta'd. I apologize ahead of time for typos. :)**

* * *

><p><strong>If Walls Could Talk <strong>

_"But then you came around me  
>The walls just disappeared<br>Nothing to surround me  
>And keep me from my fears."<em>

**Chapter 4 **

The bright sun shows brightly in the early morning sky as it creeps up the horizon glaring down on Manhattan.

The yellow-orange rays seep through the blinds casting shadows across the white sheets.

She looks at the bedside clock as it reads 7:30 A.M.

Even on her days off, she still finds herself waking up before necessary. Olivia feels resolved having the day off, or rather she's content on handling the simple task of riding out a small suspension for her outburst in interrogation the other day.

Cragen had informed her of her little "vacation" right before she had left trying to hurry out of the precinct the previous night to meet Eric.

The last few days have been a mentally exhausting. A little time off will do her some good she imagines.

Now, as she still lay in bed, she relaxes her back flat against the bed with her left arm draped across the mid section of her black tank top while her right hand rests under the back of her head against the cool pillow case. As she takes in the early morning glow, she can hear a low hum coming from her bathroom.

She had noticed before fully opening her eyes that Eric wasn't lying beside her.

She hears the water running in the bathroom and lets out a long yawn as she stretches under the cool linen sheets. Through the wood door only a few feet away from her bed she can hear the heavy stream of shower water running down the drain.

As she lays staring out the window of her bedroom, she thinks back to the night before.

They had gotten home at a little before midnight, after they had eaten dinner they had decided to see a late movie. Olivia had wanted to spend some time out instead of stuck in her apartment on a Friday night, even if he was going to be there too. It's not like she doesn't spend enough alone time there anyways when she's not working.

Eric had agreed and they had spent most of the night in the city having dinner and a movie. Spending time with him was enlightening. She'd felt lighter as she had walked down busy sidewalks in the crisp spring air. He was giving her a reprieve from her normal plans after a late night at work.

Normally, she would go straight home and sulk, ultimately falling asleep early, with no company, no plans, no desire to get out of her small apartment on a Friday night.

But not this time.

Last night had been different and she had enjoyed it. Eric had held her hand and kissed her cheek at a crosswalk and she had felt like a school girl.

It had been refreshing and possibly one of the best nights she'd had in a long time.

She smiles at the thought as she hears the creaking of pipes resonating throughout her bedroom as Eric turns off the water to the shower.

She should probably take one too she thinks. After they'd gotten home from walking the streets she'd been exhausted and had essentially poured herself into bed. Not to mention the other extracurricular activities Eric had planned early, early this morning.

She peels the sheets from her long tanned legs and swings them to the side of the bed. She now hears Eric in the bathroom tapping his razor on the side of the sink.

He's shaving and she wonders why.

She loves the roughness of his face on hers when he cuddles with her and and prickly sensations of it when kisses her. She wonders what's gotten into him to shave it off.

She makes the trek to the bathroom door and knocks softly. She can hear his movements still as she slowly opens the bathroom door.

"Hey," she softly greets him. "Good morning."

She smiles at him through the mirror as she lightly drapes her arms around his torso.

He instantly sets his razor down and wraps his hands around hers that are clinging to his abdomem. "Good morning. You're in a good mood," he smirks at her through the mirror.

Pulling her arms from underneath his, she places a hand on each of his shoulders and spins him around to face her. Planting a light kiss to his lips, she raises an eyebrow, "Mhm, why wouldn't I be in a good mood," she questions him rubbing his biceps with her fingertips.

He smiles and stands up straight up, all 6'3 of him staring down at her. Her heartbeat quickens as she stares up at the tall, sexy man staring back at her.

"Well, I did wake you up being noisy didn't I?"

"Well," she teases him, "I guess you can say that but I'm used to it. By the way, what are you doing up so early, and why are you shaving," she asks pointing to the razor.

"Oh, I have a lot to do today babe. I have a interview at ten o'clock. That job, remember?"

"Oooh, well I didn't know that was today!"

"Yea, and I'm going to get it. I can feel it." He kisses her on the lips once more before returning to his task of shaving.

"Well, I'm sure you'll be just perfect for it babe. I'm going to take a shower, ok?"

"Ok," he replies as he turns the faucet on to finish shaving.

She slowly opens the shower curtain and adjusts the knobs to the right temperature as Eric finishes up. The job. She remembers their converation last night at the restaraunt.

The job. Moving. Spacious.

She drops her clothes into a small pile and steps into the hot spray of the shower. As she reaches up to grab the shampoo from the small alcove shower shelf, an ache creeps into her shoulder blade. She lowers her arm back down gently massaging the sore muscle beneath her smooth tan skin. She stands there as the water beats down on her as she remembers this morning before even the sun came up.

_Her hands_ _had been pinned above her head touching the wooden base of her headboard. She lay flat on her stomach as he gripped her hip with his free hand. He had a vice like grip on her wrists with is other hand as she lay with one cheek pressed into the pillow as he pummeled her from behind. The pressure on her arms had increased with each bounce of the mattress from his fluid movements from above and behind her. She had moaned from pure pleasure at the time. _

Now, as the hot spray runs down her skin, she tentatively lifts her other arm and picks the shampoo up and drips some in her other hand. As she washes her hair she hears Eric call out from the bedroom that he's leaving. She says ok and then hears the front door close behind him.

She ponders while soaping her hair what she'll for the day and remembers that the clothes she wore from the night before need to be taken to the drycleaners. She also needs to run some other errands as well. She's expecting her little friend any time and needs to run to the drug store as well. Might as well kill two birds with one stone she thinks. While Eric's gone, she'll get some running done too.

The water continues to pound on her tense muscles and slowly begins to wash away the ache that reminds her that she has company, and it looks like he is here to stay for awhile.

...

He groans as he shifts uncomfortably in the stiff double sized bed.

Turning over onto his back, he stares at the ceiling coated in a dainty white paint. The sun shine peaks through the lone rectangular window off to his right.

Tiny rays peer onto his face from behind the off green curtain that is pulled all the way closed. He lets out a yawn as he pulls the plaid comforter farther up over his bare chest.

By the light grazing the edges of his bed, he can tell it's still early morning. He reaches for his watch on the tiny wooden night stand and checks the time. It's only seven in the morning. He stifles out another yawn realizing he's only had a little over five hours of sleep.

He really has no where to be today.

He turns on his side that is away from the window and closes his eyes attempting to tune out the occasional truck that passes by outside his window. As he tries to dull the noise in his mind, he remembers back to the evening before. It's part of the reason he couldn't get to sleep til early this morning.

After having a sudden change of plans he had needed a quick place to stay. The uncomfortable mattress had only added to the thoughts running through his head all night keeping him awake.

He hadn't intended to stay here after coming into the city.

He had intended to make an important visit.

He wasn't expecting to have that plan dashed the instance he heard commotion on the other side of that wall.

Her wall.

It had been around a quarter after seven the evening before when he had walked down the hall to stand in front of the door he knew quite well. He had been just about to knock when a loud thump sounded seemingly right inside of the door. Within seconds, he was about to bust it down worried that something was wrong on the other side. That was until he heard it.

Soft moaning. Heavy grunting. Light thumping against the wall.

He had pressed his ear to the wall and knew instantly this was not the time to stay and chit chat. His heart had dropped to his stomach partly due to the fact that she was obviously _occupied_ at the moment, but also because it felt like he was something of the past.

He swallowed realizing that his throat was dry and quickly turned on his heels and headed toward the elevators. Leaving without anyone ever knowing he was there.

He pressed the ground floor button in the elevator as the doors slowly began to close. Still, as he descended downwards he could hear the faint noise of two people consumating their relationship.

He watched the numbers light up as each one got closer to his destination. Right then as one more floor separated him from the outside world, he decided he would try this another time. Heck, maybe he didn't need to after all. It had seemed like she was plenty busy and he had been there just to catch up.

Later that night, after he'd summoned enough courage to call her, it had gotten too late and thought better of it.

He had sprawled out on top of the comforter in this cheap motel room with all his clothes on still. Eventually, before he had fallen asleep at nearly two in the morning, he had stripped down to some sweatpants he had with him and pulled down the blanket and tried to dream.

Dream of the past.

The before.

The innocent things. Even though, very few and far between, the innocent things that came before the reason he found himself here and not a warmer, comfortable bed back in Queens.

As he lay in bed now, he still hears the sounds coming from behind that wall. He wonders who. He wonders if this is happiness. He takes a deep breath and rolls over once again.

He may not get any more sleep than he's already gotten. His mind is in over drive. He would like to see her before he goes back. But, he's not sure if he can. He still feels like he owes it to her though. He is the one that has essentially cut off all ties of communication since that last phone call.

He had had his number changed from his old work number to a personal number. He hadn't had a chance to give it out yet, at least to those important to him other than his kids.

So if by any chance she had tried to call him instead, she would have never gotten through to him. It was kind of a stupid idea he thinks. What if an emergency had happened? What if something happened to one of them? To her? He would have never known because he didn't give any of them the new number.

He rolls over yet again, slightly frustrated.

He closes his eyes, willing sleep to come. Begging it.

He doesn't want to leave early.

He does want to run into the city but doesn't want to fall asleep while doing so. He wills himself to sleep at least a few more hours then he will see what the day will entail.

...

**2:15 P.M. **

She walks out of a small market with a shopping bag in hand wondering what else she can do before she has to go back to her apartment. Eric had called about a half hour ago saying he had just gotten out of his second job interview.

Second interview.

She didn't know about a second interview, but she supposes it's a good thing.

He'd explained briefly how the one job that he really wanted would call him sometime that day if they were really interested in his services. He had sounded excited on the phone. Sure of himself.

He had also told her he was going to run by his place to pick up some of his things then ride down to his hopefully former place of employment to let them know that he might not return. He had said he'd most likely be home later that evening. His former boss liked to talk his ear off, so it'd take a few hours he'd reassured her.

She had said ok on the phone and hung up with him as she walked down the sidewalk a few blocks from her place.

Now, she walks towards her usual drug store with the big glass windows and entranceway. She steps across the threshhold of the store and goes to the over the counter window. A woman around Olivia's age greets her as she steps up to the window with bags in hand. She reaches into her small handbag and hands the woman a prescription with scribbled writing on the front. The woman behind the counter eyes Olivia for a few seconds and then smiles realizing it's for her.

"No problem, Ms. Benson. We'll have it ready in just a few minutes."

Olivia nods as she walks a few steps to an aisle filled with antibiotics and muscle rubs. She takes a long look and decides to grab some muscle rub cream. Her shoulder could sure use it. A few moments later she's back by the window and the woman behind the counter hands her a small white bag. "Here you go, Ms. Benson. Just follow the instructions on the inside of the package and come back when necessary. You have a good day."

"Thank you," she says with a small smile and walks toward the checkout. With the way things have been going lately, she's glad for the contents of her little white bag that reads in small black letters: ORTHO TRI-CYCLEN.

...

**6:33 P.M. **

Soft music flows through the air sending soft melodies into the background of the many coversations being had. The jukebox lights up one corner of the tavern with it's bright neon colors lightening the place up a bit.

A few couples take seats at tables inside while another heads out to the patio to enjoy drinks in the nice air outside. This spring has been especially generous to New York City. As he watches the people slowly cascade in, he walks down to the other end of the bar where a man has been sitting sipping on a beer mumbling to himself. When he gets close enough, the man lifts his eyes to him, his eyes are bloodshot and his shoulders sag.

"Another, please."

"Sure." The bartender sits down another beer on a napkin in front of the man who's been sitting there for about twenty minutes. "Rough day?"

The man shifts nervously on his stool as the barkeeper cleans out a dirty glass with his rag. The man pulls out his wallet sitting a couple of bills beside his new beer and then rests his head on one of his palms on the counter top.

"Yea, guess you could say that," the customer slurs.

The bartender looks at his disgruntled customer from behind the bar wondering what shithole he came from. He obviously came from another tavern because he already smells of alcohol and he's only had one here so far. He watches as the man takes a long swig of beer and just shakes his head.

"I'm just no good," he continues shaking his head once again, slurring his words slightly.

The bar is already starting to get dim from the impending sunset. For an early Saturday evening the expected crowd is starting to file in. As the man sits on the very last barstool with beer in hand, the bartender can tell it's going to be a long night of drunks considering it's not even seven at night and he has one drunk starting already. He may need a few drinks himself. Nights like these are the best, he thinks to himself sarcastically. He looks back down to the man now slouched with his suit jacket sitting on top of the bar.

"Can't be that bad that you have to drink whatever's bothering you away."

"Heh," is all the man responds as his gaze travels around the tavern taking in the scene.

The bartender stares for a few seconds trying to figure out what exactly it is about this man that seems off. "Maybe, you should sleep it off. Huh? Seems like you've already hit up a couple of places. I know these aren't your firsts," he motions toward the empty and half empty beer bottles sitting in front of the man.

The man at the barstool looks up at him for a second seemingly in deep thought at what he's just said to him. He turns away mumbling incoherent things to the bartender and takes another swig of his beer. He then sets his bottle on the cool flat surface of the bar and looks down at it shaking his head as if he's disappointed by something. He looks back up and a small smirk appears at the corner of his mouth.

"Just keep 'em coming," the man says glancing down at his watch as he sways slightly on the stool. "Doesn't look like I'll be leaving anytime soon."

The bartender shakes his head once again and walks down to another customer.

**A/N: Check out the IWCT story banner! http: / tiny . cc/jqspp. Copy and paste. Take the spaces away. **


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter bides by the "M" rating (Revised) **

**If Walls Could Talk **

**Chapter 5 **

He stumbles around as he inches his way down the sidewalk outside of the bar. He barely avoides colliding with each person he passes who are still mingling at this time of night. He doesn't know how long he was in there for.

"Wash where you're goin' moth' fuckers!"

As his words slur and he sways on his feet amongst the lightly littered sidewalk, he glances back at the bar he just left. The neon sign above the entrance eminates brightly proving the night is still young for the many customers still inside.

_How dare he tell me what to do. Imma grown man. Fucker! _

Only minutes earlier he had been sitting inside that very same dimly lit bar working on his seventh or eighth beer, he couldn't even remember.

The bartender had noticed him hardly able to sit straight and had cut him off. He had argued with the man behind the counter saying he wasn't ready to be cut off. The bartender had given him a stern look and simply told him what he really didn't want to hear.

_You're done. _

As his drunken temper flared he had lost his sense of control. He spat at the man and reached over the counter trying to grasp him by his collar but the older and sober man had pulled away before he made contact.

_Get out of my bar before I have to kick you out_, the bartender had bellowed out in his strong New York accent.

As the words came out of the older man's mouth a flash of red appeared behind his drunk customer's eyes.

Barely able to keep his balance on the stool, he leaned forward once more uttering a torrent of cursory remarks.

_You shithead! I tell yous when I'm done. You hear me? I pay, you serve! What moth'fucker messes with me. You know da kind of day I had? No! You don't... You fuckers think you own erry body here._

A continuous amount of profanity had come from his mouth as he attempted to stand up and immediately tumbled to the floor. Other patrons had watched from afar as two bigger men walked up to him and carried him out of the bar.

He continues to pace the sidewalk now, swaying from left to right.

One of the heavy built men had offered to call a taxi but he had ignored him and started walking and yelling obsenities at anyone and everyone who crossed paths with him. He wouldn't have been able to tell the driver where to go anyways. He still doesn't even know where he's walking.

He is so pissed at the way he was treated. He wants to go back and punch both of those cock suckers in the face who man handled him out of the bar. He wants to kick the shit out of that know-it-all bartender. He wants to push any man, woman or child out of his way. He doesn't know where he's walking but if someone interrupts him one more time he's going to pounce.

He is royally pissed off!

He remembers his temper in his drunken haze and realizes the alcohol isn't helping. He thought he had been in a bad mood when he came into the bar, now that he's left the place, he might pummel anyone who even looks at him the wrong way. He'll slam his knuckles into something until he hears bones crunching, whether it be his or whoever he makes contact with.

Tonight, his drunken rage will escalate if he doesn't get into bed soon.

...

It's 12:45 a.m. and she keeps tossing and turning on her couch listening to the quiet of her apartment as the bright lights pop from her television screen. She has it on mute and as she lays there in silence she can hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

She had gotten home around 3:30 that afternoon and had enjoyed the free time off from work. She had gone into her room to put up her shopping bags and had straightened the room up a bit. Feeling drained from her walk through town she had decided to take a quick nap on her couch before Eric returned.

A quick nap had turned into several hours.

When she had awoken it was already starting to get dark outside and she had half expected Eric to be there already. She remembered he said that he might be a _little_ late.

She hadn't heard from him since he called about his interview. She had sat up on the couch reaching across her coffee table for her phone to see if she had any missed calls. None.

Not even anything from Cragen.

She had sat back against the cushions letting her mind wander restlessly.

About her life. Her career.

She had closed her eyes trying to revel in the feeling of rest but she couldn't keep her mind off of the evening in general.

She likes some peace and relaxation time, but this not being able to do anything but sit around and wait was killing her a little inside. Normally, on evenings such as this, she'd most likely still be at the precinct working late as usual amongst her collegues.

She had to be doing something. Her job and drive made her that way.

As the clock had rolled toward nine o'clock she had gotten up and made her something to eat and tried calling Eric's cell phone. It was getting late and still not a word.

She called and got nothing but the voice mail. She had tried a few more times and got the same thing. As it crept upon eleven o'clock, she had called his home phone at his apartment thinking he had gone home for some reason and left messages on his answering machine.

She just wanted to make sure he was ok. It was unusual for him to do this and hadn't ever left her hanging like this in the months they have been together.

As she lay on the couch now with her back toward the glaring light of the television, she starts to drift off to sleep. Her eyes pop open a occasionally trying to keep awake for if and when Eric comes back. There has to be a logical explanation for this she tells herself. As she pulls her light blanket higher over her chest, it aches a little as she realizes the time approaching 1 a.m.

A million thoughts race through her head.

What if he got mugged? What if he was in a car accident? Is he hurt somewhere? Did he get the job right away and is he working late? As unlikely as that is she has to think of something.

She almost feels a wave of doubt cross her mind.

Is he not coming back? Did he change his mind about us? Does he regret getting involved with me like all the others who realize what my job entails? A pang of worry hits her stomach as she rolls onto her back and turns her head toward the screen. She has it on CNN of all things and it has a story of a man who pulled two girls out of the river in some small town after their abductors pushed them off the edge of the banks. She can't hear them talk but the news caption at the bottom of the screen tells her all she wants to know about what those two girls went through.

She's about to shut the television off when she hears loud talking outside in her hallway. She listens intently as it sounds like two men arguing not too far from her door. The muffled sounds of their voices seep beneath the crack of her door as she tries to tune them out.

The banter goes on for a few minutes and eventually haults. She realizes it must be her neighbors. Of course it's her neighbors she thinks. The neighbors she rarely talks to unless something goes wrong and she's the cop.

As she reaches for the remote to flick the television off, a steady bang on her door resonates throughout her apartment. Startled, she jerks up, and looks at the door seeing a dark outline eminating from beneath it from the hallway light outside.

Her heart drops to her stomach. Not because of nerves. Relief maybe? She thinks it's possible for that to happen. She walks to the door tentatively hoping that maybe it's Eric. She's mad as hell that he's just now getting back and that he never let her know that he was going to be even later than he thought. It's one in the morning. _Come on_, she thinks.

As she peers through the peep hole of her door, sure enough what she sees is what she was hoping to see all night. Him.

Deep within, she knows this is unlike her. The way she anticipates someone on the other side of her door some nights.

She has been alone all this time, she almost became used to not expecting anyone to show up at her place, ever.

She used to liked it. It's not like she had to have someone there. She was independent. Still is. But the man that stands on the other side of the wall has changed her in some ways. She almost expects him to be there at work with her sometimes. She has grown so accustomed to him. She has changed. She likes change every once in awhile.

Ever since what happened eight months ago, she has been evolving. An evolving worker, leader, and woman.

She thought she would never be the same after that day. But, as she realizes now, no, she's not the same, but it's not as bad as she may have anticipated.

She'll still kick someone's ass if need be, but she is coming into her own as a woman who needs to be around a masculine entity. Wants and needs come hand in hand when she thinks about it. She's been looking for this for awhile.

It's not all about needs, but she wants. Her wants have been put on hold for 12 years and she realizes now that she can have that and be content. So she _wants_ and pursues it now.

So her heart softens a small hair when she unlocks the lock on her door and slowly swings it open.

Staring back at her from the other side of the threshold is a red eyed Eric who looks like he's been to hell and back. Maybe he has. His black jacket is wrinkled as it hangs loosely from his broad and taught shoulders, his shirt underneath he had worn to his interview has a dark golden stain right below his navel. His short brown hair is tussled as he looks down at the ground with his hands stuffed into his pant pockets.

Leaning back on his heels he raises his eyes to meet hers. "Aren't you gonna lemme in?" He slurs the middle of his sentence and begins to take a step forward.

Olivia's mouth drops open slightly as she searches for what she wants to say after hearing him speak for the first time. She wonders if is he drunk. Sure explains his appearance and sligthtly slurred speach. She can't help but wonder why.

She opens her mouth to speak again as he raises his eyes to meet hers and proceeds to let himself in. "Livia, lemme in."

She steps in front of him before he makes it inside. "Eric, what happened tonight," she ask in a gentle tone.

He doesn't answer right away and seemingly out of nowhere finds his voice sounding almost completely sober, "Just... let's talk inside."

Letting her guard down, she opens the door the rest of the way. As he walks in, even in his inebriated state, he still notices her state of dress. She has on a tight blue t-shirt that fits across her breasts tightly with her pajama shorts on that accentuate the tone and curve of her lean legs. She wears a small white bathrobe that hangs open and dangles just past her knees.

He moves to stand inside the door as she closes it behind him and locks the dead bolt. Eyeing her from where he's standing, she turns around and notices what he's doing. When his gaze returns to her face she pulls her light robe across her body and ties it in front.

"So," she starts, "I know we have alot to talk about, and this certainly is one of them. What happened?" she asks him calmly as she watches his eyes flit open and closed slowly.

He walks towards her and slowly wraps his arms around her waist. "Sorry, babe. I'll make it up to you," he tells her, his body swaying gently from side to side as his fingers tighten on her hips. "Come on, les go to bed," he grins.

As he starts to pull her towards the bedroom, she pulls out of his grasp. "You're drunk," she states calmly. "You're drunk and you wreak of booze."

A cocky smile appears on his face as he reaches for her again and grasps her wrist with a firm grip. As he pulls her to him he starts to kiss and nuzzle her neck. As she tries to loosen his grip, she looks up to him with a angered look. He simply pulls her closer and sways their bodies again as if dancing to imaginary music. "I'm not drunk baby. I just want to dance."

With an annoyed sigh, she pulls back from him once again. "If you're not drunk, then explain to me where you were tonight. I know you've been to a bar. But why?"

There's no anger in her voice. No accusation. Just curiousity.

Suddenly, something clicks in his eyes and his pupils seem to dilate and she can see this even in the dim light from her television.

He stares at her intently not saying a word. He blinks slowly and all of the sudden he's back in the bar.

He's angry all over again. The bar. The verbal fight. The two men with their hands on him. That cocky _sonabitch_ bartender.

His pulse quickens as he forgets where he is for a split second. He feels like he's being told what to do again like from that _sonabitch_ bartender.

"You telling me what to do?" he questions Olivia in an eerily calm voice. As he takes a step towards her kitchen, he flicks the small over head light on as it cast as shadow across his facial features.

She stares at him confused replying slowly drawing out her answer. "No." She crosses her arms over her chest and shifts her weight on her feet. "Eric, you had a little bit too much to drink tonight, maybe you should go home and slee-"

"I'M NOT DRUNK!"

The pitch of his voice startles her and causes her to take a step back. He's holding onto the counter staring at nothing. She's never seen him like this. Something had to have made him go out and drink like this. He's drunk but not falling down. But drunk enough. She'll try to get something out of him before she ends up sending him home or he passes out somewhere here.

Slowly lifting her palms to him, she eases her way toward him like she would a vigilante. As she approaches him to place a hand on his shoulder she talks to him in a soft voice."Ok. Something's bothering you. Why don't you come over and tell me what happened."

To him all he can see in his alcohol induced personality is accusation in her voice. Yea, something is bothering him he thinks. Her condescending ways. He feels like she's talking down to him as she would at work.

He watches as her eyes plead with him to come and sit down with her on the couch.

But at this moment, he doesn't want to talk. He wants to touch her.

He reaches up and cups her face with both his hands putting his lips on hers. He slowly eases her back toward the living room and stops just before the couch. Releasing her face, he moves his hands to her pajama shorts and runs his finger tips under the himms of each leg. Realizing where his focus is again, Olivia reaches to his hands and pulls them up to rest in between their chests.

"Stop," she says gently and adds,"why are you drinking?" she questions him again. She scoots closer to him as he seems to have calmed down. "I thought you had things to do this evening? Did you ever get a call back from that job you really wanted? Talk to m-"

His heart rate quickens. His face scrunches up, his forhead wrinkling into an irritated expression.

His hands escape her grip and he takes hold of her shoulders tightly as his mood continues to shift.

It's in her words. She's still accusing him of being drunk. God, he hates that. Slowly inching his face closer to her face, he feels suddenly filled with adrenaline. The alcohol is playing with him tonight and he needs to resolve it.

In an instance, she looks _real_ good to him.

He jerks her shoulders bringing her body close to his. They're just going to _sleep_ this off, he thinks through his drunken haze. Maybe then she'll stop accusing him and asking questions he doesn't feel like answering right now. Only a few moments pass after he grips her shoulders. He takes a deep breath not saying anything.

Realizing the pressure on her arms, Olivia begins to squirm in his grasp. "Eric, let go of me," she calmly demands. When it doesn't let up, she raises her voice louder. "ERIC! Let go of my arms."

"Let's go to bed," is all he states and begins to pull her towards the bedroom.

"No, dammit! YOU ARE DRUNK. Now, let me go!"

"You stupid fuckin' cunt," he spews at her.

With that stream of harsh words, her police instinct cuts in and she yanks herself from his grasp. He stumbles backwards a few steps and she gives him a venomous glare. Her upper teeth to show as her anger pulses through her features. "Eric, get the hell out!"

She takes a deep breath before turning to walk toward her kitchen hoping he's gone by the time she turns around. She turns on the faucet to get a drink of water noticing immediately the sting in her upper arms. _God Dammit_, she thinks. He's put his hands on her. Drunk or not, he isn't staying here until he's the Eric she slept with last night and has for the past few weeks.

She takes another sip reaching for her bottle of advil in the drawer beside the stove. A pounding headache as already set in as she realizes how a seemingly innocent and relaxation filled day has turned out.

Her heart is pounding and breaking all at once.

She loves the man in front of her, she feels it more with each passing day, but there is no way in hell she is letting him sleep within the same vicinity tonight. She has some self respect to not allow something like that. Especially since he brought it upon himself to one deny he was drunk, two refuse to tell her why he was late and three to put his hands on her.

There's no getting around it. She's pissed at him now. It's the first time since they've been together he's ever, ever pulled a stunt like this. She isn't going to put up with it.

This could be it.

She doesn't want to think about it but it's eating at her. She sits the glass of water down and notices Eric hasn't moved from where he's standing. She had thought she made it loud and clear she wanted him to leave.

From the kitchen counter she instigates another wall of powerful words. "Eric, I said get your ass out of here and go home. Sleep it off. I'm going to sleep!" She walks out of the kitchen passing him on the way out. He briefly looks up from the floor catching wind of her scent and watches her slowly receding form.

As she closes in on her bedroom door, he can't help but feel angered. He feels humiliated in a way. He had a tough day and this bitch is kicking him out. He clenches fists at his side and ponders what she has said.

_Go home!_ _Sleep it off!_

She's accusing again he thinks. He just can't get past that. A overwhelming urge builds in the pit of his stomach as he watches her stop in front of her bedroom.

In what feels like a light glide forward, he reaches for the back of her head and grabs a handfull of her dark brown hair and swivels her back toward him. Catching her off guard, and temporary helpless, she reaches for his hands tangled in her hair yelling at him to let her go and fighting with what ability she has.

She feels him tighten the grip on her head and when she feels his weight shift from one foot to the other, she takes the opportunity to jam her elbow hard, deep and fast into his stomach.

He falls backwards loosening his grip in her hair, gasping for his breath. She fights to turn herself around and shoves him as hard as she can.

Facing him, she palms his chest pushing him away from her. His hand eventually falls from her hair as he yelps from the contact.

As he staggers, he finds himself only a few steps from the front door.

"GET OUT! GET OUT! NOW! YOU SON OF A BITCH. GET THE FUCK OUT!" she screams as she reaches for the front door to open it. Finally getting a good grasp on his arms and shoving him towards the door he stops just as he crosses the threshold.

She's not looking at him as he stands in the doorway. She looks down at the floor in front of her couch as her chest heaves up and down.

He clears his throat like he's going to say something, but instead of aknoweledging him she turns away waiting to hear the click of the door closing behind him. "Get out," she says more calmly and quietly.

A few seconds later, he clears his throat again realizing he's in a losing battle. "Olivia," he says softly like he's about to say something to try and make things better.

She doesn't want to turn around but his voice is lulling in a way. She doesn't want to look at him but she's is confused right now. It takes her a second to comprehend the calm way he had just said her name.

She slowly lifts her head and contemplates turning to face him with an angered expression.

But when she does, she is immediately trying to catch her breath as the door slams closed behind him.

She's on the floor next to the coffee table and immediately she feels the throb in the right side of her temple. When she looks down at her hands planted squarely on the floor trying to hold her up, she can already see the crimson tear drops staining her light carpet.

...

_Drip, drip, drip._

The faucet in the tub continues to leak as the water begins to turn an almost umbearable cold.

She lays still with her foot propped onto the side of the tub as she tries to use it to turn the knob upward for the hot water. When it's succesfully turned on, she let's it run for a little while as the liquid starts to warm around her skin again.

She takes her wash cloth and submerges it in her bathwater. Calmly, she guides it along the contores of her body in the water around her. The small movement causes tiny waves to ripple the surface causing the last of her bubblebath to dissipate. She slowly takes her foot and flicks the hot water off and returns her long leg back into the warm abyss.

_Drip, drip, drip._

The faucet leaks again, releasing a dismal amount of water into her already almost full bathtub. She can't but sure, but she wouldn't doubt the sound of her own tears aren't making the dripping noise this time.

Her eyes are red rimmed from the soap and the soft sobs that had escaped her throat only moments ago. She stares at the water enclosing her naked body and closes her eyes briefly.

She can't believe it. She can't understand it. She can't comprehend it.

What happened tonight?

She brings her wrinkled hand from beneath the water and rubs the tender spot on the side of her forehead.

How was she going to explain this?

Suddenly, the sobs return and she turns herself onto her side in the tub, using the back as a head rest. She takes the wash cloth and puts it lightly on top of the welp on her exposed temple.

Over the gash.

Who knew the corner of her coffee table could be so vicious.

The warm feeling of his palms had been barely noticeble and the shove had come so abruptly she hadn't even felt it.

Through the silence other than the soft patter of dripping water, she can hear the birds chirping outside the small bathroom window. It's already time for the early birds. Too early. She's been laying here in the water for the better part of two hours. She doesn't feel like getting out even though her skin started to prune long ago. She closes her eyes and listens to the gentle chirping and light wind wrestle outside the window.

It's 3:30 in the morning. She needs to be in at 10:00 today.

What a day off, she thinks.

Well it was technically a suspension, so what does she expect she supposes. Maybe, days like those aren't supposed to be good like it had all seemed less than 24 hours ago.

She shifts her position back onto her back inside the tub and is greeted with the light brush of her upper shoulders against the side of the porcellin texture. She glances down with her eyes at the reddish blotch on her upper arm. She sighs deeply at the sight and fights off another sob threatening to overtake her.

She stares up at the ceiling and her mind starts to wander. Her heart is drumming slowly, but she's pretty sure it's broken inside. Inside her chest. It feels hollow right now.

Does she report this? Can she? What is this going to do for her in the department? Her own captain has no idea she was dating, let alone someone for as long as she had.

_Had._

If she reports this little incident he's going to look at her like she's crazy or something. She doesn't even know. She's so confused right now. So out of character.

She doesn't cry like this.

She doesn't shed tears over small injuries, too many cases and especially men. It's not like her. She hates herself for this feeling. She's letting her control slip.

How did she let this happen?

She had the situation under control she had thought. Then he blind sided her and she came out hurt more than she ever thought she could when she had let him in. She didn't do enough back there. She knows she starting to rebuke what she tells the people she helps everyday but she can't help it.

She's still a cop. Still a fighter. She is still someone who should have done a better job at taking care of herself. It's inexcusable.

She sits up in the water and let's the rag fall from her face. Standing up in the tub, she grabs the fluffy white towel hanging from the rack and wraps herself up within the warm, and secure confines of it.

Lifting one leg out of the water and letting it fall onto the mat below, she eases the other out allowing herself to just stand there in the middle of the bathroom. She hugs her middle tight and takes a deep breath willing herself not to cry any more. She can't go into work today with big swollen and puffy eyes. They'll know for sure. Know something is up that she has and had no right to keep from them. Those three men are her family.

She should have said something about dating Eric. But now she doesn't even want to aknoweledge his existance, let alone that she's been sleeping with him for the past five months.

Moving her feet toward her bathroom sink, she looks up into the overhead mirror and before she can tell herself not to, she gasps at the sight. A large welp with purple and black color resinates on the side of her head. A small gash where the blood had come from is barely noticeable because of the swelling. She runs her slim fingers over the area and shivers from the pure sight of her idiocracy.

This should have never happened.

As she stares at her reflection, she sees how much she has aged since starting this job.

Her reflection now shows a weak woman who let things get out of hand and now she is paying for it in her own humiliation.

As she takes a shuddering breath, she tries to think about what to do. She's never wished as much in her life until now that she had someone to talk to. She wishes she had another woman to talk to. Another feminine power to guide her or to tell her that even the strongest of woman are vulnerable to the laws of nature. That no matter how much she cries that this was something that can't be explained. It just happened.

She had been feeling so _good_ about her life these last few months and Eric had to go pull something like this. This ones going to hurt for awhile, she thinks to herself. Breakups have never been easy for her like everyone else, but none had ever reached this caliber. At this age, this stage in her life.

Right then, after all she had been through with her mother, she realizes how much she misses her. Wishes she could ask her what to do. She's not sure her mother would be able to answer but it's better to hear her voice, someone who was close, than no one at all.

She exits the bathroom and steps through her bedroom towards her bed. Lifting the blankets on her side ready to get underneath, she is immediately overcome by the memories she's shared under these same covers. She doesn't want to sleep here tonight but then again she doesn't really feel like sleeping in the living room either.

She goes over to her dresser and pulls out some sweatpants and an old t-shirt. After she puts them on and slips on her shoes, she grabs her keys, gun and badge and heads out into the early morning.

The cribs never held anything against her.

**A/N: Ok, so I wrote and edited this all early into the morning so I apologize for any typos or grammatial errors, etc. I'll fix them later :D. So sleepy lol.. **

**S/N: Sooo... what did you think? Seems the atmosphere has built up suddenly and has spawned its first storm. Did I throw anyone off with the first bar scene... I was hoping if so, it was a good thing. lol.. please don't hate me lol. I know some saw this coming but please bear with me... the tide will turn that is all ;)**

**Also, I started a new story called Kast. It's something entirely different from this. Please feel free to read and review it as well... of course after you do this one lol. I'd like to know what you think :) Thanks for ****reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Another long chapter and quick post... hope you don't mind. Errors I apologize for ahead of time. Classes just started back up and wanted to get this up asap! The ride continues!**

**If Walls Could Talk **

_"I feel these four walls closin' in._

_My face up against the glass. _

_I'm looking out, is this my life I'm wonderin'_

_It happened so fast."_

**Chapter 6 **

_She goes over to her dresser and pulls out some sweatpants and an old t-shirt. After she puts them on and slips on her shoes, she grabs her keys, gun and badge and heads out into the early morning._

_The cribs never held anything against her._

**6:58 P.M. The Evening Before **

It's been almost twenty-four hours since he stood standing outside her apartment door. It's been almost exactly the same amount of time since he walked away without a single word spoken.

The sun is going down again and now the dark oranges, yellows and reds permeate the small room.

He went into town earlier. He stopped by the old watering hole he and his former collegues would venture into on a night when the case would come to a conclusion and they had reason to celebrate. As he walked past the entrance, he smiled to himself, remembering staying late after the rest of the squad had left and order another beer just shooting the breeze.

With her.

She would be right there with him until he decided enough was enough.

The dim glow of the place would emit a comfortable feeling for them both and they would enjoy each others company. He missed that. He missed the conversations. He missed her.

He lays in the middle of the motel bed in the room he paid for the night before, recollecting his time at the 1-6. It hasn't been quite the same as it had been eight months ago. His life has changed dramatically and he's not sure what his next step is. After spending the day in the fresh air out of the motel, one thing is for sure in his mind.

He will go to see her.

However he can. Wherever she may be.

He makes the decision in his head to try and stop by her apartment once again. And if she's busy, he'll call it a truce. He'll just try, _try_ to call her instead.

His second choice, is to stop by the precinct. He hasn't been there in months and it almost seems like a foreign place to him, somewhere he had lost directions to, somewhere he never thought he'd face again any time soon.

Especially, the place that started it all.

All of this.

Him sleeping in a motel, with itchy sheets and stale smelling covers. It's not that terribly. His apartment is much better he recollects but this is only temporary. He'll go back after and if he sees her in the next few days.

He shifts his body to a more comforable position as he realizes that that one place he is could go see her will undoubtedly bring back too many memories. Too much hurt. Too much angst within himself.

As he watches the last of the sun rays peak through the curtains, he watches as the sun slowly dissipates behind the horizon.

Almost as if it's speaking for his life, the sight reminds him that the rays represent his past and the new day represents his future. His life is still changing with no sign of going back.

He relishes in the thought of a new day tomorrow and feels anxious. He's going to do it. No matter how much it hurts, he is.

He wants to do it though. If not for himself, then for her. He knows what it will mean for her. He hopes she will need it as much as him, because Lord knows they have both done enough to hurt each other in the past.

As his eyes drift close, and the sky illuminates from the silver moonlight, his last thoughts before succumbing to sleep are sauntering.

He _will_ see her.

...

He remembers being at the bar. The first one at least. He just can't seem to put a finger on the reasons as to why he was there. That's until he reaches for his for his cell phone in the pocket of his dress pants he has yet to change from.

As he lays on his couch, he reads the words on the cell phone screen as it slowly comes to life. It's eight in the morning. Wow, he must have drank alot last night he thinks to himself. As he struggles to sit up straight, he's not even sure what time he got home. It had to be after midnight he thinks. He needs to sleep some more of this hangover off he realizes as his head begins to throb.

As he looks back down to the screen, he sees 10 missed calls and a voicemail from a number he recognizes but is not sure who it belongs to.

Then it hits him. Nine of the ten calls are from Olivia and one from his fomer boss, the boss in which he was supposed to meet up with last evening to discuss if he would be coming back.

His heart beat quickens as he grips the phone in his hands. If he didn't know why he was drinking before, he does now.

The new job.

He had gone to his interview, to the job he had his heart set on and was expecting to get it. It was like he was made for it. He was planning to tell Olivia about his plans and have her move in with him when he bought his new place.

He was moving on up.

He was different now and he was going to let her and everyone know it. He and his friend Lenny, who had recommended to take Olivia to Isabella's, had even looked at some new places while Olivia had been at work.

He had had it all planned out.

He was sure this was in the cards for him. No looking back. The past behind him.

But as he looks back at his former employers number staring at him, he can't help be relieved he hadn't made it last night. He was supposed to meet him around eight o'clock last night and had been well into an alcohol induced rage by then.

At around 6:30 after he'd gotten out of his last interview and had gone to a few places, getting Olivia some celebratory wine and some extra stuff for them. As he left the small store, as promised, his cell phone rang with the employer who he almost desparately wanted to work for, on the other line.

What he heard next caused him to drop the small bag in his hand.

The person on the other line had simply told him, he would not be right for the job. They wouldn't be asking for his services.

When the call had ended, the person on the other end had simply said with little empathy, _I'm sorry Mr. Lombard_.

He lost it as soon as the call ended. Pain and humilation shot through him and he couldn't see straight.

Not even twenty minutes later, he found himself plunging through the door of the first tavern he saw. He needed something strong. He ordered a shot of vodka and sat in the corner sulking in the immediate dissappointment of what he had just heard on the other end of the line.

At this point he didn't even care about the other interview he had gone on or if they called to let him know if they wanted him in a few days.

He was infuriated before he even finished his drink.

Dissapointed.

She was going to be dissappointed in him. She had even said she thought he would get it. He had failed.

Speaking of her, his head throbs as memories pour in of only a few hours before.

The drinking had most certainly played a role and now it all made sense, well at least to him. It all hadn't made sense to her he vaguely remembers. He hates what he put himself off to be.

Even though, he's had rough patches in the past, he feels pissed at himself for losing control and letting his guard down.

Beligerant. If he looks up what it means an any dictionary, he's sure he would see his picture.

He's a beligerant drunk.

Stupid. He will go out on a dime and say he's done something so out off base that he's ruined what he had originally had going.

Violent. He's truthfully unsure how it never came about sooner.

His violence. He thought he had it somewhat controlled when it came being around her.

When he had come to her apartment from what he remembers, he hadn't intended, nor did it even cross his mind to do the things that he had done. He wasn't expecting to take his rage out on her of all people. He was willing to take it out on the next asshole who crossed paths with him but not on her.

As angry with himself as he was last night, he knows she of all people did not deserve what he did.

But... what's done is done he tells himself.

But what happened at her place is his downfall. He's an idiot. So, so stupid he thinks to himself.

He sets down his cell phone on the small end table by the couch and goes to the bathroom.

When he makes his way inside, he washes his face in the sink and realizes his ribs are sore.

He remembers scuffling with Olivia but he doesn't exactly remember what happened.

She's a tough one.

His one task at hand is to get her to trust him again. It's going to be tough, but he will have to try. It's vital. Or what he's doing with her is completely useless.

She will talk to him again. That's a given. He'll make sure of it. He knows she will ignore him and essentially try to cut off ties, but she's got a weak spot too. She'll let him in one day and then that trust will be restored. No matter what it takes.

He walks back out to the living room and grabs his phone sliding it opened. He looks at her missed calls and presses send. If she has any sense, he tries to show himself, she'll answer. She'll talk to me. There's no other choice. She has let me in, he thinks. She's not completely stone. She has feelings for me and I let her down but she will have to answer eventually he thinks.

The phone rings twice and automatically goes to voice mail. Shit. This wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought. As the seconds tick away he quickly thinks of what he wants to say before her voice mail cuts him off.

"Olivia... I _need_ to see you."

...

Her feet beat down on the coal black surface as the tread mill continues to loop in it's continuous pattern. As she approaches the 3 mile marker, sweat beads around her brow and her leg muscles are tense beyond anything's she's felt. Her heart his pounding in her temples and chest while her nerves still stand on end.

It's been a quiet morning at the 1-6 and everything and anything is putting her on edge.

She's been a the precinct for about five hours. She had scurted through the quiet and dark squad room at almost four in the morning, long before anyone else had appeared. She had decided to get a few hours of sleep in the crib and when that wouldn't happen she found herself sitting at her desk looking through files on the case they had been working.

The little girl.

Those bastards had essentially gang raped her and took turns with her whenever they damned well pleased.

She was going to get justice for this little girl and her mother no matter what it took.

Life just wasn't fair.

After she couldn't stand to look at the files any longer that's when she found herself in the gym. Anything to keep her mind busy. Anything to keep her focus off the early morning hours she had just experienced.

She presses the button on the control pad and the tread mill slowly comes to a halt. Her legs feel like jello but she revels in the feeling of supple exercise. It's been awhile since she has had a good anger reducing sweat.

She walks over to her gym bag and looks for her phone and towel to wipe her face. Checking the time, she realizes she has only a little over thirty minutes to shower and ready herself for the day. As she starts to slide her phone closed, she notices the little voice mail icon in the corner of the screen.

Immediately, her heart is in her throat.

Who can it be? She hestitantly presses the button for the voice mail and she simultaneously wants to throw up.

_Olivia... I need to see you. I messed up last night. I was drunk and I know that's not an excuse but you've gotta believe me when I say it was a mistake. I love you. Please call me back. I wanna make it up to you. Bye._

She slides the phone closed and drops both hands to her sides as she hears his words repeat in her mind.

_I messed up. I was drunk. A mistake. I love you. Make it up to you._

She feels like vomitting.

She throws her phone on top of her bag and rushes off to the showers. As she turns on the water, she catches a glimpse of herself in the reflection off of the silver rail and immediately remembers why it's a bad idea to take into considertion to what Eric had to say.

She still hasn't figured out how she is going to explain the heavily bruised welp on the side of her forehead. There's no way in hell she's talking to that son a bitch anytime soon.

If anyone knew she was already there at the precinct they havn't made it known because they have left her alone thus far. Cragen should be here by now and she's mostly worried about what his expression will be when he sees her.

None of them know.

None of them have any idea she has been seeing someone.

She tries to convince herself that they won't be surprised. But she knows they will be. They saw the way she visibly caved into herself the day Elliot left the precinct with his last box of belongings from his desk as she sat back in her chair staring down at her interlocked fingers. Not saying a word. Not even saying good bye to Elliot when he had stopped by the side of her desk and gave her a look that she could see in the corner of her eye. A look that made her want to crawl into the nearest hole and never come out.

Defeat. Loss. Numbness. Hurt. Sympathy. _Love._

Their collegues knew her and Elliot were close. Maybe too close. Eric wasn't a rebound so to say from losing Elliot in her life. He wasn't.

She tries to convince herself, but the thoughts easily fall from her mouth slipping down the drain with the rest of her resolve, sweat and despair.

But Eric had betrayed her. He betrayed her trust. Her love for him. He betrayed one of the most meaningful things to her. He put his hands on her leaving not only trace physical evidence on her body but also in her heart.

As she steps into the shower, she realizes just how much her body aches. The stress of the last few weeks have taken a toll on her forty something year old body.

As she washes the sweat and tension in her muscles away, the wash clothes rubs against the red splotches from Eric's grip on her shoulders. At least clothing will cover those up, she thinks. There's no way she can tell them about Eric. As far as she's concerned, he doesn't even deserve credit for even existing.

That's how much she is hurting.

...

At promptly 10:00, Olivia comes from the locker room and is almost at her desk when something hits her. A sensation.

A tingling starts in the pit of her stomach as she stands in front of her desk. She looks toward Cragen's office and sees him talking to someone seemingly out of her line of vision. She can't be sure but he looks excited to be talking to whoever it is. A few smirks form on the corner of his lips and she wonders what it could be they are talking about. With whom he is talking to.

She walks past her desk and as she gets closer to the door of her boss's office, the tingling in her stomach intensifies and she's not sure why. It feels as if she is anticipating something, excited about something without her permission.

When she knocks on the door, she looks through the slits of the blinds on the inside of his office window and realizes he's talking to another man inside.

Cragen motions for her to come in and when she steps inside without looking to the corner to where the man is sitting in one of the small office chairs, the aroma around her eludes her senses.

Immediately, she knows. She knows who it is.

She looks to her captain who is just staring at her with his hands in his pockets and head raised high as if he was expecting her all along.

As soon as she starts to take a step to leave, her emotions spill from within her, engulfing her, without ever making a physical appearance on her features. Her stomach is churning, and her heart rate picks up instantaneously. Her head starts to throb and as she goes to sit down from the sudden wave of nausea, she notices her palms are sweaty. When she hears the faint sounds of her captain's voice telling her to have a seat, she panics.

She can't sit in here. She can't sit right now. Next to him. She needs air.

As she looks to her right, her eyes begin to tear from the combination of the aroma clouding her senses and the overwhelming fact of the presence before her and maybe from the throb at her temple. Who knows, she questions herself.

Before she knows it, her vision is black. Her attempts to leave the situation unfolding before her, are thrown out the window.

...

"Liv... Liv... Olivia."

She can hear his voice but she can't see anything. The low monotone of her boss's voice resinates through the air as she blinks, or thinks she blinks as the gray speckles slowly become smaller and smaller and her vision becomes more clear.

She closes her eyes once more to clear the cob webs in her eyes and when she opens them her boss is standing over her slumped form in one of his office chairs right inside the door. She picks up her arms which feel like bricks, and grips each arm of the chair trying to sit up.

"Whoa, easy Liv. Don't move too fast. You almost took a spill a few minutes ago. Don't want it to happen again."

She sits still for a second repeatedly blinking her eyes, trying to remember why she's in her boss's office. The last thing she remembers was walking toward her desk then noticing Cragen in his office talking to someone awfully early in the morning. Her eyes shoot open and wide at the realization and she looks to her captain with worry in her eyes. Had she imagined it? Was he really sitting there a few minutes ago? How hard did she hit her head last night? She must have been hallucinating the whole thing. She sinks back down for a minute in mild disappoinment yet relief as well.

"Cap'n you were talking to... he was there... where," she fumbles with her words hoarsely as she stares at her captain's light smirk.

"Liv, take it easy. He went to go get you some water. He'll be right back."

Her eyes widen as he stares back at her. She must look like a complete fool right now. Seeing her partner for the first time and fainting at the first sight of him after eight long, agonizing, painful months.

She opens her mouth to speak but it slowly drops closed as she searches for the words. At that moment she actually realizes the dryness of her mouth.

"That's quite a shiner you got there, Olivia. What happened? By the looks of it, it may be that you have a concussion," he inquires.

She knew as soon as any one of her collegues saw it they would ask questions. She didn't think it was that bad. It was just a little bump. Why did they have to overreact?

She reaches up to feel the welp and lump on her temple and flinches when it begins to throb under her soft fingertips. What is she kidding? It's looks and feels horrible.

"I umm... I uhh."

Cragen shifts his weight from one foot to the other and looks at her with concern, eyes drooped low causing the lines in his forehead to multiply. She's obviously still a little jumbled up. He suspects she has a concussion from whatever it is on her temple.

"Liv," he says softly, "did you hit your head in the shower before you came out? It looks pretty fresh. I'm going to call a bus, that ok?"

Immediately her eyes shoot up looking for his gaze. "No! No. You don't have to. I just... I got a little hot when I was in the gym and then immediately showered and I must've overheated when I walked out of the locker room so quickly. Please... I'm ok. I just need something to drink," she replies just as Elliot timidly walks back into the office with a bottle of water in his hands. Looking up because of the sudden change in the air, she quickly swallows realizing he's the cause of the lump in her throat.

"Here," his voice comes out low and gruff.

"Th-Thank you," she replies thickly because of the dryness. She looks back up to him and he has his hands on his hips waiting for her to take a drink of water. His concern and arrogance permeate off of him like he owns the place. Like he's never left. Typical Stabler, she thinks. A small smirk resonates on her lips as she takes a sip of water. She winces slightly as the cold water rushes past her gums and jets to her skull sending a pounding throb to her temples.

Immediately, Elliot picks this up and crouches down in front of her. He rests his hands on each side of her, a hand on each arm of her chair while she holds the bottle in one hand that sits on her right thigh and holds her forehead in the other.

"Liv, are you ok?"

Her gaze instantly flows straight towards his, towards his lingering eye contact right in front of her slouched form, his breath only inches away from her face and she freezes. Clearing her throat, she tries to sit up straight with him in such close proximity. "Uhh," she lets out a breath. "I'm fine. Really," she lets out in her low, husky voice.

Elliot shoots Cragen a sideways glance and Cragen comes forward as Elliot stands back up and moves off to Olivia's side. Cragen stands a few inches in front of her before he speaks.

"Olivia. Are you sure you don't want to be checked out?"

Stupid question.

"Captain I'm fine, I promise."

"Olivia, I'm inclined to disagree. You have a lump the size of a baseball on the side of your head and you don't seem to remember where you got it. As your commanding officer, I'm telling you I think you should get it checked out. It could be serious," he frowns as he cocks his head to the side in another attempt to reason with her.

Taking another drink of her water, she sits the bottle down on the floor beside her chair and sits up straight. She clears her throat and flinches yet again at the sudden shooting pain from the spot on her head. "Captain," she breaths out, "I'm telling you that I'm fine. I just ... I just... I know I how I got it ok? I remember. I uhh," she winces, "I uh slipped in my own shower yesterday and hit my head. Please. I don't need to get it checked out. If it gets worse by any chance I'll go then but until then I'm telling you I'm fine," she argues beginning to stand up reaching for her bottle.

As she starts to stands up a sheen of white appears in her vision as she starts to go light headed.

"Olivia!" Elliot exclaims as he immediately juts in front of her and catches her by her shoulders. Her water bottle goes rolling under Cragen's desk as she grips his forearms trying to steady herself.

"I'm sor- I'm sorry," she breaths out. "I'm just going to go lie down in the cribs," she slurs a little bit.

Elliot looks across to Don, who has concern etched all over his features. He gives Elliot a slight nod and Elliot grips her shoulders tighter. "Uh Liv?" No response. She just stands there seemingly lost in a trance. He shakes her shoulders a bit. "Liv?"

Her eyes lift to his and she seems in a daze. "I'm ok, I swear," she whispers with a sign of defeat in her words.

Elliot looks to his former captain once again and takes a deep breath. "I'm taking her to the Emergency room, Don." He turns to Olivia who starts to open her mouth in protest and he quickly shuts her down, "and no ifs, ands or buts about it, Liv. You're going!"

**A/N: Okay! Updated! Butttt... I was so unsure of what order to put the scenes in being that I did write this one a little out of order originally to tie up some loose ends everyone is wondering about. I wanted to reassure everyone of Elliot's presence in this chapter that's why he was first. So like usual, reviews are welcome... thanks for reading. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I was glad to have some free time to write. College does that sometimes. Hope the update is worthy. :) lol**

* * *

><p><strong>If Walls Could Talk <strong>

**Chapter 7 **

Her head rests against the cool surface of the window as she wills herself to sit up straight. If not to prevent the throb of pain that each crack in the road causes, then to keep the contact with the window from causing more problems with her concussion. She's sure she has one, but it's nothing she can't handle. That's why she's headed toward her street rather than the emergency room Elliot was all hell bent on taking her. It wasn't easy persuading him to do so, but he had relented and now they are approaching her apartment instead.

"I still can't believe you won't just go get checked out."

"Elliot, I'm fine. Please just leave it alone."

"You almost fainted twice in Cragen's office! Don't make me regret this or I'll..."

"You'll what, Elliot! I'm not going. I told you, I'm fine. Just please take me home and go back to what you were doing. I'm fine. I'm doing fine!"

Elliot pulls up to the curb in front of her place and turns off the ingnition.

Whoa. Where did this come from he wonders. The more he think about it, the sudden anger makes him worry even more about her health.

"Olivia, I just wanted to make sure you were ok. If you don't want my help than by all means, go," he growls raising his hands toward the passenger door.

Scoffing, she turns to him and unbuckles her seat belt. "I thought that was your job," she seethes showing her teeth in apparent misguided anger. As she starts to open the door, he grabs her by the shoulder keeping her from leaving. When she turns to look at him touching her shoulder, he quickly releases her when the look on her face makes him shiver. If looks could kill, she just murdered him with ice daggers.

Slamming the door shut, she walks up the steps and goes inside.

He sits there wondering what the hell just happened?

...

What a reunion. She's not sure why she lashed out on him. That is not what she had wanted to do.

She pulls off her work clothes she had put on at work, a spare set she stored in her locker, and yanks on a tank top and some sweatpants while standing in her bedroom.

As she tosses the clothes into her hamper, she glances around at her mess of a room noticing that her bed is made. She's not one to not pay attention to certain things but knows that seems off.

Did she make it? She doesn't think so. Her heart thumps wildly in her throat. Was somewhere there while she was gone? Suddenly, she scurries toward her bedstand and opens the drawer to find her back up glock sitting in the bottom of the drawer.

She quickly picks it up, flinching at every sound around her. Concussion or not, she'll shoot any son a bitch that appears. She quickly scans her bedroom with gun drawn, searching for anything else out of the ordinary. Opening the bathroom door, she realizes that her bathwater from early this morning is still in the tub. She must have forgotten to pull the plug.

Brushing that off, she goes back to her bedroom when she sees that the bathroom looks undisturbed. She walks into her living room scanning the small kitchen, the closet by her front door and then the living room. Her breathing returns to normal when she realizes, she must've overreacted with her bed being made. There's nobody in here.

She did leave in a hurry this morning.

She sits the gun on the coffee table and takes a deep breath. Running a hand through her hair, she realizes just how screwed up everything is. First this morning, then this afternoon with Elliot. She wants to punch something but fears the pain of broken fingers along with the pulsating throb at her temple will just make her miserable.

As she starts to turn around and head to the kitchen for some tea, something does catch her attention that's out of the ordinary. Certainly out of place on the otherwise plush, white carpeting.

She squints from where she stands by the entrance to the kitchen and notices the dark red stain in her carpet by the coffee table. Sighing, she walks into the kitchen grabbing a rag and some cleaning spray. Walking back to the spot on the floor, she bends down looking at the carpet and the memories flood her vision.

She hadn't even felt Eric push her. She certainly wasn't expecting it. The blow from the corner of the coffee table was a vivid reminder as a wave of dizziness washes over her and she stands back up sitting on the edge of the couch. Her vision zooms in and out as the dark spot in the carpet sways from left to right. All of a sudden, a spell of nausea sets in and she stands up dropping the rag to the carpet beside the dried blood and rushes for her toilet.

As soon as she opens the seat, the contents of her stomach come spilling from within. On her hands and knees, she holds onto the sides of the toilet and dry heaves some more as what's left in her stomach reappears in the clear water below.

Ok, she definitely has a concussion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and reaches for the toilet paper on top of the sink. Her hand brushes over the razor Eric had used a few days prior and fury washes over her.

That bastard is why she is in the position she's in. Ripping off a piece of toilet paper, she sits the roll down and then wipes the light sheen of sweat on her forehead. This is ridiculous she thinks. Well, when you're stupid, you should suffer she imagines. She slowly sits down on her ass, and leans her back against the wall.

Elliot was there this morning. Sitting there in Cragen's office. She had remembered seeing Cragen smiling. The only reason he might be smiling at Elliot is if he's coming back. She silently scolds herself for her actions in his car earlier. She was pissed though.

She is so confused she just wants to scream. A part of her was happy to see him and another frightened, pissed, shocked. Finally, the one man who had been a constant in her life shows up after being gone for a better part of the year and she treats him like a total bitch because her boyfriend beat her up.

_Motherfuck!_

She wants to kick something now, screw punching something.

Eric had done those things. Elliot shouldn't have to deal with her attitude because of some dick. But then again, she is mad at Elliot. He's the one who left.

She had meant what she said in the car as cruel and misguided it was at the time. But it still pertains to him. He's the one who went. Left. He left her for eight motherfucking months. She went to some other man for comfort and support behind her other collegues backs and now she's paying for it. Silently.

To hell with telling anyone about Eric. That secret will be kept within the walls of her apartment.

...

What the hell? Who is this son of a bitch? I see she works fast, he thinks to himself as he sits in his friend's junky van across the street from her apartment. She wouldn't answer his calls, wouldn't answer his voicemails, now she's not answering her work phone.

He had wondered why until he noticed her getting out of a car in front of her apartment. She's not even at work. Perfect. He watches through binoculars as she sits still in the front seat of the car, staring at the other passenger across from her. She looks pissed. He imagines it's at him.

That cunt went and told someone about what he did. Might as well expect a talk from the police he imagines.

_Stupid fucking cunt. _

_Stupid fucking asshole. You're the one who fucking hurt her. Get drunk again, dumbfuck. _

As she sits talking to the other man in the car, he wonders what they are discussing exactly. Was it the way he tangled his hand in her hair? Is it the way he touched her body, is it the way he gripped her upper arms forcing her to look into his green eyes, or was it the way he barely pushed her sending her into that jagged edge of the coffee table?

She's going to collar him for assault, he can feel it.

He imagines that did a number on her but he hasn't seen her yet so it's possible that left a mark. He grips the steering wheel when he sees her start to get out and the other man grabs her arm. Their faces are awfully close.

_Goddammit!_

That bitch is going to pay. It's been one fucking day, barely, and she's all over another fucking dick.

He grips the binoculars in his other hand and watches as she slams the door shut and heads toward her building. He'd been cursing her out that he hadn't seen if she kissed him. The whore probably did.

He sits there for a few minutes watching the sedan parked in front of the curb still. He wonders if she is coming back out because the car sits there for longer than it should. But finally, the tail lights flare and the car pulls away into the early noon air.

Taking the opportunity to talk to her, he shuts off the van and puts his binoculars in the glove box. He waits about twenty minutes before getting out in case her new boyfriend decides to come back. Seeing that the other car is nowhere in sight he takes his chances. Crossing the street, he walks up to her front door and buzzes for her apartment. He waits for a few seconds before he hears her voice.

"Who is it?" he hears on the small intercom.

He takes a deep breath, a grin forming from hearing her husky, sexy voice, and clears his throat without speaking.

Out of character, he speaks in a tone sligthly resembling that of a seasoned New Yorker. "Uh, Ms. Benson? I have a delivery of flowas for you. Want to come down or me to come up?"

Sighing on the other end, she buzzes him up. This should be good, he thinks.

...

"Goddammit," he yells as the dark brown liquid seeps into his jeans as he hurries to wipe his leg off with the wad of napkins in his hand. "Watch where you're going you asshole!"

The man in the other car shakes his head, mouthing words Elliot can't understand as he crosses the intersection back onto Olivia's street. He decided to go get some coffees and go back and talk to her. She seemed pretty upset. Even though he's not completely sure, he thinks it has to do with something other than the concussion.

Maybe him?

He did show up out of nowhere after eight months and decidely took over like he never left, forcing her to go to the ER. Cragen had agreed but probably would have preferred someone else take her or to have a bus get her. She wasn't having any of that so he jumped in. He knew her. She would refuse and ultimately got her way. Ughh, the woman.

Maybe, he shouldn't have jumped in. Jumped down her throat about her going. He's such an ass. He drives up in front of her building again and turns off the ignition. Taking a deep breath, he tries to think of what he's going to say. He's not sure he's ready to explain everything quite yet. He knows he has to explain things to her. She'll want to know. She may not say it out loud, but the look in her eyes will give it away. He knows one thing for sure, he's going to apologize for his inability to stay out of her business. If she didn't want to go, she shouldn't have been forced.

As he starts to open his door, he sees a tall, lean and attractive man jump out of a dark van. He walks up the steps to Olivia's building and buzzes one of the apartments on the intercom. From where he is siting in his car, he can't tell which apartment he buzzed.

Sitting still watching the man, a sudden urge to get out and see who he is taunts him. He looks clean cut. He doesn't look suspicious to the naked eye, but he has a feeling that he's someone he doesn't like. All of a sudden it hits him when the tall, attractive man is buzzed in. Olivia definitely made it to her apartment already. Definitely able to buzz someone in.

_Oh man. _

This must be the mystery man knocking boots with her against her wall.

He burns up inside.

God his anger toward other men in her life hasn't let up. He's immediately mad at the man. What man takes a woman like Olivia up against a motherfucking wall?

He thinks about getting out of the car and buzzing her apartment too, to see if it really was boy toy. He sets his coffee down in the cupholder and watches the front door.

Shit, he can't do that to her. She's already pissed at him for invading her privacy already and she doesn't even know he had heard her get fucked against her apartment wall. He had heard enough through those goddam paper thin walls of hers.

He wasn't about to barge into her apartment building, as much as he'd like to, demanding to know if macho man was boning her. He hated thinking about another man with her. Any man. He just felt no man could treat her like she deserved and that's why his jealousy and anger towards any man that made a pass at her, got his ass chewed out.

Sighing in frustration, because he had really wanted to take her this coffee as a piece offering, he starts the engine back up and pulls away from the curb.

It's time to go back home. He had his chance to see her and when he did, he fucked it up, as usual.

...

He sits at his desk running over some files from another case they picked up yesterday. Another child found beaten and bloodied by the hands of her father. Olivia is going to flip her shit when she sees this he thinks. He closes the file and leans back in his desk chair resting his palms behind his neck.

Olivia has been something else of late. His detective is struggling he can tell. He's not sure what seeing Elliot truly did to her. They weren't there long enough for him to analyze it. Their partnership was golden in this unit and he hasn't checked but is pretty sure the statistics are down since he left. Not only are the stats down, but so his is partner. Former partner. Literally.

He stacks the tan folder on top of another stack and brushes his hand across another one poking out from the rest. He pulls it out and reads the contents inside of it. Sighing, he rubs his hand across his balding scalp and taps his pen against the wooden desk. Sheila Coleman and her daughter are going to suffer because Olivia couldn't get any names of their male neighbors because the mother had never talked to them. The daughter never learned any of the names either while being repeatedly raped by them in her own apartment building.

He's not blaming Olivia, he just wasn't expecting things to turn out this way.

Things have been sketchy with her lately. She's devoid of restraint. Her temper has flared more than any other year with the unit. She spaces out when he's trying to reason with her. He's genuinely worried about his lead detective. She's strong, hell, stronger than he could ever have imagined but she's only human and he thinks she may be on the brink. The brink of losing it. She's not made of stone. He'll have to confront her about taking some down time. It's going to hurt like hell losing her too for awhile, but he cares for her way too much to push her over the edge. She's like a daughter, and he'll do whatever it takes to get her back on the right track.

He closes the file and sits it on the ever growing pile of files on his desk. Olivia Benson. Detective Olivia Benson. He thinks about her incident today in his office.

How in the hell did she get that welp on the side of her head? She said it was from falling in the shower, he hates to say it, but he calls bullshit. He knew when she was avoiding the question of how she got it and deflected his quetion as to why she fainted instead. He's no fool. Something's going on with her and she needs to figure it out because it's affecting her work perfomance added to her partner leaving.

As soon as she gets out of the ER, he'll have a sit down with her. Eh, maybe he's overthinking it. Everybody has been a little on edge in this unit with the short staff and tougher than normal cases.

He sits up and walks to his office door. "Munch! Can you come in here please?"

The tall, gangly older man stands up at his desk and nods to his partner as he walks toward Cragen's office. "Yes, Captain. At your service."

"Have a seat."

"Uh, oh. I knew someone was watching me when I ate that donut on duty."

Chuckling, Cragen turns to sit down at his desk. "No, no John. I just need to ask you something. Did you see Olivia this morning?"

"Yea, briefly when she came from the locker rooms. Why?"

"Did you see her, see her?"

"Cap, I'm not sure what you..."

"I mean," he clears his throat, "did you see her face? The huge welp on her temple?"

"Ohhh," Munch inquires. "Yes, nasty spill, she said. Why do you ask?"

"I don't think she's telling us the truth. I don't know why, but that doesn't look like any bathtub incident to me."

"Why do you think she's lying?"

"I don't know. Something Elliot said. He said this morning he had went to go see her, but never got the chance because she had company."

"What kind of company?"

Munches question does nothing to dissuade his concern. His brows furrow as he looks down at his interlocked hands. Tilting his head back, he looks John in the eyes. "Exactly."

...

Blood stains are fucking bitch to get out of carpeting, she realizes. She's on her hands and knees scrubbing again when she hears a light knock on the door. Uggh. Flowers. She can only imagine who they are from. Either Elliot, which would be shocking considering he's never sent her flowers, or that prick. She refuses to say his name. As she stands up, she reaches for her glock sitting on the coffee table and tucks it into her pants.

"This better be good", she growls under her breath. Making a bold decision not to look through the peep hole, she opens the front door, leaving the chain attached. "Yes," she asks with the door cracked open.

"Olivia?"

SON OF A BITCH.

She immediately tries to close the door but he's quicker and pushes the door back towards her before she closes it all the way. Wrestling the wood in between them she finally allows to door to snag on the chain so she can speak. "Eric, let go of the damn door."

"Olivia? Please, just let me talk to you."

"You are talking and I'm not listening so fucking back up before I call my buddies downtown."

"Come on Olivia. How can you do this? I just want to talk. We were doing so good together. I want to make it up to you, please?"

"Eric, you don't know how pissed I am at you. I don't want to talk. See this," she moves out of the dark and leans her face to where he can see ther welp on her forehead, "this is why we can't talk. I don't have anything to say to you."

_Shit. He did do a number on her he thinks. _

"Shit," he rubs his hand behind his head in an apologetic way. "Olivia, I swear, I didn't mean that. I don't do that. That's not me. You gotta understand."

"Well, you did, and I don't do well with violent drunks, so you should just go, ok?"

"Olivia please, you gotta let me explain. I don't go and get drunk like that ever. Please? Just let me in and I'll explain and then I'll leave, I promise. I just want you to know why I did what I did... as wrong as it was. I just want you to know that I'd never hurt you like that. I love you too much. We've shared too much for it to go down like this."

Getting frustrated of what he's saying, she contemplates his offer. Going against everything she is, stands for, teaches, she's taking the road down _risky._ Swallowing hard, she looks up at him, his green eyes staring down at her waiting for what she has to say. "Eric, I don't know. I can't let you in right now. It's... it's too complicated right now."

Seething with anger on the inside, he tries like hell to make sure it doesn't show on the outside. She's fucking that fucker he saw her with in that car, he knew it! Too complicated. Fuck! Holding in his fury, he lifts his arms placing a hand on the door frame and another on the door and looks down at the ground. He stares at this shoes before he speaks. "I didn't get the job," he whispers. Looking up at her with what he hopes is defeated eyes, he internally begs that's he's getting through to her.

Her eyes soften.

_Yes._

"Really?"

"Yea," he says hoarsely while looking down at his shoes. "I know, I KNOW drinking after I found out was the wrong thing to do but you gotta understand. I thought I had failed. Failed you."

Taking a deep breath, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She's fucked. Royally and stupidly fucked.

"Eric, I'm sorry things didn't work out. And you're right. Drinking was the wrong thing to do and I can't get passed that yet. I need time. Ok? You should know I don't put up with that bullshit, never have and never will. Try what you did last night again and you won't be so lucky."

"I know, I know Olivia. I was outta my mind. I was distressed AND drunk to top it off. I can promise you, I can't ever see myself ever doing that again. I'd never lay a finger on you while sober. Olivia I care about you."

Smirking, she reaches through the crack and rubs her fingers across his newly formed stubble. He lifts his chin at her touch and he feels like he's moved mountains with her already. It was easier than he thought. She must have been more broken than he imagined. "I know Eric. I care about you too." She drops her hand to her side and sighs. "You want to go get some coffee somewhere?"

His eyes light up and nods twice. Smiling at him she closes the door all the way and heads to put a shirt on. Screw it, she's wearing her sweatpants. She pulls the gun from her pants and sets it back into its resting place inside of her bedside drawer. She walks back into the living room and sighs at the half assed attempt to remove the stain on the floor. She walks by it and looks through the peep hole. Eric's standing there with his hands in his pockets staring down at this feet waiting for her.

_God, don't let me regret this. _

Before the thought leaves her mind, she's opening the door and in one rush it's being slammed toward her and she's being pushed into her apartment with the door slamming shut amazingly loud behind them. _Them_.

_Fuck!_

**End notes: OMG! What in hell's bells is going on? Hmm? *taps chin* lol.. I love reviews just tossing it out there. :D Whatcha thinkin'?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for the reviews on this story. And special thanks to those who review regularly. You know who you are. Sorry for the delay in updates, I've had this one written out for awhile but wasn't liking where it was going so decided to hold off and repost, so some of you may have read this already. And don't worry, this IS an EO story, it will slowly but surely get there. Thanks again for reading. :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8 <strong>

**If Walls Could Talk **

She'd felt this way only once before. Once before, had she felt this sudden panic. A sudden fear that she was in trouble. Undeniable, deep, penetrating trouble. Trouble meaning, that there could be dire consequences for the decisions she had made. Pain, humiliation, scars.

She's only felt like this one time and the memory is shattering her right now. The look on his face had been that of stone and fury. A mixed expression that was eerie to the bone.

Now, she sees something she can't explain quite yet on Eric's face, but the heartbeat in her stomach spells it out all the same as it had in that basement. Her heart is in her stomach as she sits on her ass, arms behind her back propping her slouched form that is sprawled across the floor.

The floor.

_Hmm. _This is becoming an all too familiar place around Eric. She starts to sit up but Eric inches in on her. He looks down with dark eyes and she's afraid that the inevitable is about to happen.

How could she have been so stupid? He isn't just a prick while drunk, he's going to hurt her while sober too. She should have known his speech about his actions last night were just a facade. He had acted so off the other night, barrelling into her apartment drunk as a skunk.

She stiffens as he reaches a hand out to her, inching body his towards hers. She scoots back hitting her back against the coffee table.

No, no, she is not going to let this happen. _Goddammit_. Why did she put up her spare gun? She could use it right about now. Self fucking defense wouldn't hurt.

She stares up at him with wide eyes as he is practically standing on top of her slouched body. He leans down, his eyes devoid of any emotion, upper body stiff and his hand inching closer to her.

This is it. He's going to hit me, beat me, she thinks.

_Get up!_

She can hear it in her mind, she's screaming at herself to get the fuck up, but she can't move. She's immobilized by the fact she can't believe this is happening.

He lowers his hand toward her face and she flinches. He now has a leg on the outsides of her two legs sprawled in front of her. She turns her head away from his touch and squeezes her eyes shut. Just as her police instincts kick in, telling her to disable his advances, to kick his legs from under him, to protect herself, he speaks in a low voice, almost soothing.

"Here," he looks down at her pleadingly.

She looks up as he bends down, offering his hand.

Well, that wasn't what she was expecting. She looks him in the eye for a few seconds before sitting up straighter, more confident that maybe he isn't going to harm her.

"Are you ok," he asks as he reaches for her arm to help raise her up. She nods. "Olivia, I'm sorry. I thought I heard you cry out for help. I kicked the door in. I had no idea what was wrong. Are you sure you're ok?"

She glowers at him in question. What cry? She hadn't cried out let alone hear anything. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little sore from the door hitting my chest," she says sarcastically as he helps her stand all the way up.

She immediately rubs the spot on her chest where the door had hit her sending her spiraling backwards to the floor. He had busted through the door just as she was about to open it. What the hell was he thinking?

"What the fuck, Eric? I didn't hear anything... now my chain is busted," she complains pointing to the dangling silver chain on her apartment door.

He clears his throat, looking from her to the chain and then puts his hands in his pockets. "Uh, I'm sorry, Olivia. I swear, I thought something was wrong."

"Well," she sighs looking back toward the door, realizing how much pain a slab of wood can inflict. "Jeez," she breathes out heavily.

"Look, Olivia I'm sorry. I'll uh, I'll take care of it." He looks at the tops of his shoes and a dreary silence floats between them.

Olivia's not sure, but she almost gets the feeling that he's on edge about something. That's he's anticipating something. "Eric, I think you should g-"

"Look, Olivia... how about those coffees... I really want to explain."

She takes a deep breath. That boat has sailed on that one she thinks to herself.

She takes a second to respond, realizing that it really isn't a good idea. She needs time to think about what he's done. She's in no position to forgive him as she rubs the sore red spot on her chest and her upper arms. Not to mention, he's responsible for the horrendous welp on her temple, even if he hadn't physically done it himself. His push caused it. The corner of the coffee table nonewithstanding.

She clears her throat and he speaks first. "Olivia, please?"

She stares at him, looking deep into his emerald green eyes. She doesn't answer him and the air fills with tension. "Eric, I don't think it's a good idea right now. I need time to think. I just, I want you to go clear your head before you say anything to me. I was going to, but I don't think I'm ready. Ok?" She pleads with him as he stares her down, trying to accept her proposition.

"Well, I'll be over later then. We'll talk. I just want to get some things off my chest. I think I deserve that much," he retorts.

Her heart thumps nervously at his persistence. His voice is eerily sure of himself and she swallows hard trying to sound as confident as she can. It's the only way she's going to win this argument.

"No, Eric, not later. I'll let you know." She walks over to the door tentatively and opens it up for him to go, hoping like hell he doesn't decide to play it the hard way. Just leave she pleads with him in her mind. She doesn't think she is physically able to force him out. She's so fucking sore, she can't see straight.

"Ok," he says calmly and walks out the door. He looks back at her before leaving completely and gives her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry," he says quietly and walks away.

She closes the door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief that he's gone. He had scared the shit out of her bursting through the door like that. What was she supposed to think? He had drunkenly abused her less than twenty-four hours ago. Then he shows up out of the blue, and she's left wondering if it's worth the bruises, the confusion.

Meeting him for coffees, NOT in her apartment, had seemed like a good idea moments ago but now she's glad she didn't. She had forgot how pissed off she was at him, but had slightly relented as soon as she heard the defeat and raw desperation in his voice when he had admitted to why he was drunk. But that's no excuse she tells herself. Just take it as it is. You're not going to let him off that easy.

She locks up the door the best she can minus the chain and turns around toward her kitchen.

She was supposed to go to the ER. That's what Cragen had expected. How was she going to tell him that she changed her mind, her health was nothing to persuade her dignity. She wasn't about go to the doctor because of Eric. Cragen's going to probably have her ass for not getting checked out.

It wasn't that bad. The episode in Cragen's office, that is.

The more she thinks about it, the more nauseous she becomes.

Eric, drunk, welp, lockerroom, Elliot, fainting, fight. It all happened so fast and it's causing her mind to whirl again.

She swears to herself that she will get checked out if she feels she needs to. For now, she will just keep telling herself that it is her fault that it happened at all.

Thoughts of how she had treated Elliot, permeate through her mind again. She shouldn't have said that to him. Shouldn't have precluded that he was the one that ran. She's done her share of running in the past and he didn't deserve her anger.

Fuck, she had been so happy to see him. She almost can't believe she had seen him. He was almost out of her mind completely since Eric was taking up so much of it recently. She had wondered if she would ever hear from him again and then he shows up without notice.

She smiles at the thought. He had surprised her even if she had walked in on him in Cragen's office. She internally believes he had some to see her. He had to have.

Had he missed her as much as she had missed him?

The thought becomes an ache in her stomach because of the way she pushed him away earlier. She has no idea where he went and she most likely upset him, pissed him off or something because he left without saying goodbye to her.

Again.

She deserves it anyways. She makes a mental note to apologize as soon as she get the chance. With that thought, she looks over to her coffee table and sighs.

Several tears blur her vision as she leans down once again determined to get that damned blood stain out of her carpet. No one can see that. What happened behind closed doors, is going to stay behind closed doors.

...

A week had passed and she had avoided any interaction with Eric for the full length of it. She was finally getting back into a groove at work and she didn't want to disturb that.

It would be something like this to get her back into work mode, she thinks to herself sarcastically. Something goes right in her personal life and all hell breaks loose at work and vice versa.

Like she's thought before, work and her personal life have never come hand in hand. But usually, her over arrogant partner had something to do with it. Not all the time, but alot of the time.

She doesn't particulary know how it came to be this way. Maybe it was just the sight of Elliot back breathing the same air as she that had jump started her. Maybe just his presence brought back the feeling of the synchronization she had, if not with him, then just the job in general.

She has no reason to feel good about her life right now though. Even if work is becoming slightly more bearble or not. Eric's gone for the time being and her partner, ugh former partner she reminds herself, is gone too. She pushed him away.

She's still sore as hell, the welp on her forehead has gone down considerably and the cut is healing slowly.

But, her drive and determination is just as slowly gearing in the direction it was before.

Fuck a personal life. Well, at least right now.

Cragen had been displeased as she had assumed about not getting checked out. The concern was etched in his face as soon as she walked into the precinct the next day. She knew he wanted to say something to her but hadn't.

She imagines she'll have the symptoms of the concussion for a little while. She isn't an expert in the health field but she thinks the nauasea will go away in a few days.

As she sits at her desk in the squad room, she picks up a file she doesn't recognize. Opening it up, she flips through a few sheets and her heart drops. Cases involving abused children never get easier or make her feel better no matter how many times she drowns herself in work, work being that place where it feels the most safe internally. As she sets the folder down and stares at the photo of the young girl, it dawns on her the girl is around the same age as the girl in the Coleman case.

She closes the folder and sighs when Fin and Munch walk into the squad room.

"Hey, Liv. Don't look so glum, havn't you heard? Pretty ladies aren't allowed to feel down," Munch relays to her as he sits down a coffee on the edge of her desk.

"Munch, I'm sure Olivia doesn't need to be reminded she is 'pretty', she's too bad ass for that," Fin quips giving her a wink and sitting down at his own desk.

"Hey, that's not what I meant. I'm just saying that this jo-,"

"What _did_ you mean, John," Fin questions with humor in his voice.

Looking up at the two men, Olivia smiles while taking a sip of her coffee. "Are you two done? Because I have work to do that doesn't involve looking in the mirror," she grins. "Done enough of that lately," mumbles under her breath. And what she sees isn't pretty.

Breathing a deep sigh John sits at his own desk turning on his computer. "Never mind you two. Can't take a joke," he mumbles.

Fin and Olivia share a quick glance and they smile down at their own desks.

"Olivia, Fin? I need you two in here,'' Cragen calls from the doorway of his office moments later.

Once inside his office, Cragen motions for them to come in and hands them a folder.

"Yes, sir?" Fin questions his boss.

"We may have a suspect in our mother-daughter case Olivia worked on last week. We don't know where this came from, but we got a manila envelope filled with maxed out credit cards in our possible suspects name. I need you two to check this address out and he may be using an alias. Olivia, you didn't get any names from the mother or daughter right?"

"No, sir. Neither remembered any names."

"Ok, then. There's a reason this guy is using an alias, if that's the case. Just find him first. We need to question him. Got it?"

They both nod and head out into the early afternoon air. The have every intention of bringing Leonard 'Lenny' Phillips, in for questioning, if they can find him.

...

"Ok, I'll come pick him up... Ok, ok.. yes. I can take him for as long as possible." He takes a deep breath as he turns a corner and comes onto his street in Roslyn, New York. He makes a left and pulls into the small driveway to the house he's renting. The white porch sits around a fairly sized structure with light blue shingles that perk up like the clear blue morning sky when the sun shines down on it.

Listening on the other end of the line as he turns his car off and opens his door he realizes he will just have to get back in the car when he puts his groceries away, so he leaves his car windows down and doors unlocked. "Alright, Kathy, I'll be there in 25 minutes."

"Thanks Elliot, I really appreciate it."

About thirty minutes later, Elliot is pulling onto his old street in Queens, New York, which is usually only twenty minutes away from his new home. He hops out of the car and walks up the small sidewalk in front of the house just as Kathy comes out the screen door. "Sorry it took so long Kath, got caught behind an accident about 3 miles away from here."

He lives about a half an hour away from the city. Manhattan. From the precinct. From the job. From _her_. It usually takes him about thirty minutes to get to the city and he enjoys the ride. It's relaxing and a perfect distance for him to do some thinking before he leaves the confines of his car and pours his soul out to his therapist. Therapy.

He's seeing one because of the incident. The one that ultimately ripped a path down his world. His stomach rumbles with the thought. As he watches his wife, soon to be ex-wife, coming down the stairs carrying a toddling Eli in her arms, he is reminded of what has been taken away from him. His caring wife, his growing son and his home. A home they had shared for twenty plus years together. Just his family in general he realizes is a big missing piece of his current life. His older kids are off to college or off on their own making a life for themselves.

As the thoughts flutter through his mind, his heart skips a beat when he glances toward the blond as a breeze captures a lock of her hair, flipping it into her eyes.

He smiles at her when she holds Eli in one arm and removes the strand of hair, smiling at the way he's looking at her. "It's ok, Elliot. Thanks for helping out on short notice. My mom's sick and I didn't want to take Eli to the hospital," her voices falters as she her eyes disappear behind their lids.

"I'm so sorry, Kathy."

The therapy also helps remind him that he hasn't lost everything. He may have lost his marriage, his chance to see Eli as much, his career, but he is reminded those things are still there for him. His marriage had been the first to go. He grew emotionally distant to Kathy. She resented him for it, but once she found out what had happened, they both had agreed that it was probably for the best that they take some time apart.

Some time. It's going to be a long time, he thinks as he remembers the folder with the beginnings of divorce papers inside, all signed and ready to go. He doesn't ask her if she has gotten to them. He's almost sad to see it go. The years they spent together, the memories. It almost hurts him as much as it does leaving another place behind. He feels almost guilty for the way he feels. He feels that he should garner more remorse for leaving his family behind. But he doesn't.

He feels horrible for many different reasons though. He knows his leaving has caused pain not only to himself but for those around him. _Especially_ for those around him. Those who have been there for him so many times and days and nights.

His heart aches for his marriage, yes, but he doesn't feel absolutely heartbroken. He loves Eli, he loves his four older children, he loves his former home, and he even loved Kathy. She was his best friend and will be the mother of his children forever. All he can do now, is make sure the ones who count the most know that he's there for them and make the best out of the situation. He doesn't want to hurt and doesn't want to hurt anyone anymore.

But, it was just time to go. They had married so young and never got a chance to learn each other. Learn their habits, mistakes, fears. They had been thrown, or had thrown themselves into adulthood long before they should have been. They had ultimately realized they weren't as adept for each other as they had thought at such a young age when young love had clouded their minds and thrust them into a life together.

He just wished he had seen it earlier, or she had. Not that he doesn't love every single one of his children and most moments with Kathy, he just wonders what it would have been like if Maureen was the only one tying them together. It's a searing thought as he realizes how much he has come to adore every single one of his kids. Maureen, Kathleen, Richard and Elizabeth and then Eli. He reminds himself that even if he and Kathy weren't always meant for each other, they were meant to have those beautiful children. Those kids are what make he and Kathy who they are. Great parents.

"So how is everything going, Elliot? Are you still seeing that counselor. Let me just say that it was not yo-"

Cutting her off from placating him anymore, he speaks loud and clear without seeming frustrated. "It's going good, it's going better," he admits stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"I'm glad, Elliot. I really hope you do feel better. Because the way you looked when it happened... that... that wasn't you. I just want you to know I understand," she says softly touching his upper arm soothingly.

"Kathy, I didn't mean for this to happen," he blurts in an almost whisper. "I'm sorry. I really am. I hope you do understand that," he says calmly.

She gives him small smile and hands over Eli. He takes his youngest son in his arms and kisses the top of his head. Kathy puts her hand on her hips and bites her bottom lip as she looks down at the green lawn. Nodding her head slightly she looks at her husband of twenty plus years in the eyes searching, and realizing.

"Thank you, El," she whispers. "It means alot." Clearing her throat to silence the ache in her throat, she looks up and pats Eli's curly hair. "I should only be gone for a few days. If you need anything from the house, feel free to get what you need. You have a spare key."

Nodding, he hoists Eli higher on his hip and turns to put him in his car seat in the back of his car. Once he buckles him in, he turns back to Kathy who is watching her son fight the urge to fall asleep. Elliot looks at his wife's discerned expression and his heart aches. "Kathy, she'll be fine. Go, get out of here," he motions with his hands. She looks back up to him crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Opening her mouth to get one more word in about helping her with Eli, he stops her with a finger to her mouth, kissing her soft lips. He doesn't know why he did it. It was just an urge to comfort and he hates seeing her upset.

He lingers there for a second as she kisses him back softly realizing, it is what it is. Just a kiss. She pats him on his cheek and pulls away motioning her head toward their now sleeping son. "Take care, Elliot. I'll see you later."

He watches her as she climbs the stairs and disappears into the house, stilling him.

They are truly over.

...

The heavy exhaust fumes cloud his senses as he sits in front of the two story apartment complex. He needs to get in there and tell his friend that he's finally returned his van, the one he's sitting in... but it's too risky.

What the hell is she doing here anyways? Especially standing on his friend's front steps to his apartment?

His heartbeat quickens as he realizes the enormity of the situation.

His friend is the reason he has a record. His friend is the reason he had to get a new license. His friend is the reason he goes by Eric Phillips now, well in her presence. This became a vivid reminder after the day he and Lenny had looked for a potential new apartment because of the job he had desparately wanted so he could get away from the past.

This thought lingers in his mind as he reaches into the glove compartment and yanks his wallet out, rubbing his moist finger over the plastic covering that encases his license.

In clear letters, the shiny surface reads, Eric Lombard, M, 2/13/69, Height: 6'3, Brown hair, Green eyes.

It's all true as he stares down at the wallet in his hands. In her eyes, he may be a little younger and have a different name but it's nothing he needs to disclose quite yet.

She must have figured something out over the past week though. She is a detective after all. He watches as she and the dark skinned man next to her, he assumes is her partner, ring the doorbell to several different apartments. His palms become wet with perspiration and he gulps wishing like hell that his friend doesn't come down.

He hopes his friend senses the pigs standing in front of his building and bails. He can't risk being associated with him, especially him. Lenny is a good guy, but stupid as fuck.

_Dammitt! _

He should have brought the van back yesterday like he had originally planned. But he had needed it today so he could run to the DMV and get that new license because he feared Olivia might file a report on him.

He's all screwed up, he thinks. He had first changed his name from Lombard to Phillips when Lenny had told the cops the laptop that held tons of child porn had been his. When he had avoided charges when he pleaded with the cops that it wasn't his, he had changed his name to avoid any connections in the future. He had lied though, the laptop was his, but he had loaned it to Lenny to use. He knew what Lenny was into but couldn't help but let the man have his way.

He grips the steering wheel as he watches Olivia, _his_ Olivia, ringing several different apartments until the front door swings open. He watches her cool demeanor, her sexy pose, her dark hair billow in the soft wind, and watches as she motions with her hands signifying that she is Detective Benson and the fellow next to her his her partner.

As soon as she is done, the person who opened the door, steps outside in a pair of boxers and a light weight gray shirt. The male detective holds up a picture to him and when he looks up he chokes on his own tongue when he sees who is standing in front of the two detectives.

Son of a bitch.

She did find him out. Fuck, that's why it's been a week since he's talked to her.

Fuck no. Lenny, is standing between the two detectives seemingly calm to the outside world but knowing his friend, he assumes he is panicking on the inside. That scares Eric as Olivia and her partner motion for him to put some shoes on. Their taking him in.

Shit!

He knows how Lenny panics in tough situations. How he runs his mouth and says shit that fucks everything up so he seems less at fault.

Feeling the weight of the situation sit squarely on his shoulders, he too panics and looks in his rear view mirror. Turning the ignition on in the junky blue van, he presses his foot on the gas and pulls away. Hopefully, unnoticed by the three people standing in the way of his freedom.

He has to talk to Olivia soon. He has to know what she knows. He'll do whatever it takes. He knew getting involved with a cop would escalate his chances of avoiding trouble.

She'll meet him soon. She has to forgive him. Because if she or anyone else finds out what he's been avoiding and hiding before he gets the chance to explain, things can get ugly. And he's not ready to give her up yet.

He needs to see what Lenny says to them... through her.

**Please review or comment. Don't be shy ;) **


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the wait in updates, as I suspected, college life is kicking my buttocks and is interfering my fic writing tiems! But it's all good. Here's an update. Things are coming slightly full circle. Slowly, but surely. NO worries. :)**

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><p><strong>If Walls Could Talk <strong>

_"I wake up in the morning  
>Put on my face,<br>The one that's gonna get me  
>Through another day.<br>Doesn't really matter  
>How I feel inside<br>'Cause life is like a game sometimes."_

**Chapter 9**

**3 Days Later**

_He pulls her toward him by her forearms and kisses her hard, taking more than he's giving. She has a short black dress on with spaghetti straps that leaves her skin chilled from the cool air sifting through her apartment. He slowly guides the palms of his hands down her body until he reaches her outer knees. Steadily, he inches his warm hands back up her legs until they reach the edge of her dress, bringing the lightweight material back up with his fingertips. _

_She shivers as the dress makes it up past her hips and her underwear is showing. She rests her palms on his shoulders as he continues massaging her skin in the exposed area. They shift position and he's easing her back to the bed. Before he lays her back, he lifts her chin with his index finger and thumb staring into her dark eyes, his dark green ones darker than they've ever been mixed with a mystery behind them. He stares at her with a venomous glare as he leans forward to capture her lips. _

_The touch is light as his lips linger over hers and she's not even mad. He shifts her body again and she doesn't even protest. It feels like she is wading through water with each movement they make. He hasn's spoken and neither has she and it's odd because she doesn't remember letting him in her apartment, let alone her bedroom. _

_She closes her eyes as he skims his hands down her now bare chest she doesn't remember revealing to him. She feels his mouth over her breasts but it feels rough, not the usual warmth of his breath and moisture from his lips. She then feels the fine edges of his teeth scrape across the soft flesh underneath her breasts and she whimpers. _

_Her eyes shoot open and she stares at his dark eyes again. He looks predatory. She shivers again as she looks down at his nude body, sweaty and pulsating. She can't put a finger as to when he had the time to take his clothes off and is not even sure she even wants to have sex with him right now. In the back of her mind she knows she shouldn't let him do this but she can't find the words to expel that will tune him out, stop him. _

_As he gently lowers down to his knees in front of her, he nevers lets up eye contact as he sets his tongue against her inner thigh. Spreading her legs even further as she stands, he runs his slick tongue against the crevice of her thigh and she still can't figure out what, but something is off. But for some reason, she can't find the energy to figure out what this is all about. She already feels spent._

_Until this moment, when was the last time she saw Eric? She tries to think and closes her eyes as he makes his way to her clit. Running his tongue up and down her core, she chokes in protest and nothing comes out but a simple moan. _

_As he continues, the same off feeling continues. Why is it different this time? She gave herself to him before? But it is different now and goosebumps form on her skin. When he doesn't let up the motion with his tongue, her head rolls back from the feeling and she places a hand on the back of his head for leverage. _

_He forcefully slaps it away and that's when she jerks her eye back forward and opens her eyes. She sees something in the corner of her vision but can't look away from the entrancing glare he shows her from below as he continues to use his mouth. _

_When she starts to back away, because of his action, he grabs her thighs tight, holding her in place glaring at her with intent. _

_She complies. _

_In this state she's in, she can't explain it, she can't refuse him. Everytime she tries to snap out of his hold, he takes control and she can't say no. She feels like she's on a cloud, drifting above herself, watching her actions but never realizing the significance of the world below. _

_Like before, after she focuses her eyes back down on his bobbing head, the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. _

_She swallows deeply as she lets her eyes drift off towards the depths of darkness encasing her bedroom. The only light is the sliver of streaming yellows from the outside street lamp. Not even the moon is out tonight which is fitting because nothing is usual right now. _

_Her eyes linger on the darkness and eventually settle on the dark corner behind her door. She lets her eyes close from the feeling in between her legs and she exhales. When her eyes open, it's quiet. _

_All sound muted as she stares at a shadow in the corner. She's not even surprised by the figure there. No wonder she's been feeling wierd. The hairs on the back of her neck always react to him, she should have known he was around. But why is he here? Oh god. Why is he in her bedroom?_

_Nothing makes sense right now, but she can't find the strength to care._

_As she continues to stand nude in her bedroom as Eric's head continues to work between her thighs, she locks eyes with the figure as it steps from the corner and into the light. The whites of his eyes are gleaming with moisture and he doesn't say a word. _

_Her heart flutters and she should be embarrassed after all, but... she isn't. _

_Elliot stands across the room from her and she can't seem to take her eyes off of his as he stares at her. He shifts on his feet and plants his hands inside his dark suit pockets. He's watching her, and god she doesn't care. She reaches down and pulls Eric up and slams her mouth over his tasting her own fluids on his lips, stealing a glance over his shoulder at Elliot who doesn't even blink an eye. _

_She turns Eric around and pushes him onto the bed straddling his waist. When she looks up Elliot has inched closer but Eric doesn't seem to notice. Slowly, but with intent, she inches her body down Eric's, retaining eye contact with Elliot the whole time. As she runs her tongue down Eric's abdomen, she watches for a reaction out of Elliot. _

_He just stands there, stoic, no expression as she licks the tip of Eric's manhood. When she doesn't get a reaction, she raises her body back over Eric's and grabs him by his thickness, searching for Elliot again in the darkness. As she finally finds his soft white eyes in the darkness, she slowly sinks down never letting up their eye contact. She looks down at Eric who is staring up at her with squinted eyes. _

_She sinks down and lifts herself up and down a few times before he grabs her by the hips hard, stopping her. Jolting her out of her haze, she looks down briefly at his questioning stare. Before he says anything, she looks back up and Elliot's drifted back into the shadows of her bedroom but she can still see his outline behind her door. _

_She feels like she is underwater when Eric begins to speak. His word gurgled and faint as if he's speaking to her from a distance and through a tunnel._

_"What are you looking at?" he whispers through the silence. _

_She swallows and tries to move again over him while never taking her gaze off of the figure across the room from her. _

_Eric stops her again gripping her neck, bringing her down close to his face. _

_"What are you doing, Liv?" he questions using her nicname she's not used to hearing him say. _

_All of a sudden, she looks back down at him and they're not in her bedroom anymore. _

_She's lying flat on her back in the cribs of the precinct but she's still nestled with Eric, naked and glimmering with sweat on one of the cots. She searches the room with her haze filled eyes searching until she finds Elliot again. Standing at the end of the bunk watching Eric move over her, he simply gazes at her, head turned downward and hands gripping the rails of the bunk bed. She wants to call out, say something, apologize for what he's seeing, but she can't. Nothing is right about this. _

_When she tries to stop Eric because of their audience, he stops jerkily, obviously annoyed. He looks down at her and sees her gaze trained on something behind him. When he looks, he notices Elliot's apparition she thinks is for the first time. _

_He turns back around to her and grins. She swallows as his grin grows wider and wider until it becomes sinister looking and she slightly startled by his reaction. What the hell is going on? _

_He looks back over his shoulder, seemingly verifying his suspicion and then looks back down to her. _

_"We have an audience baby," he whispers harshly into her ear. "I bet you like that," he grunts as he thrusts harshly into her almost painfully. "I bet this is what you've wanted all along." He grunts once more before stilling his actions. _

_She's speechless. He's known Elliot's been watching? _

_Shaking her head whimsically, she plants her hands on his shoulders trying to push him off, but he feels like a ton of bricks on top of her. She looks over at Elliot who is approaching the bed next to their's and simply sits down, eyes focused on the floor. _

_"Oh, no answer? Now you don't want an audience? Didn't seem like it before," he mumbles angrily in her ear. _

_When she tries to push him off again, she looks to Elliot expecting help but all he does is lie back on the cot and fold his hands over his chest. _

_She looks back up to Eric who has fire in his eyes. "What you don't want me anymore?" No answer. "Huh?" _

_She starts to wriggle underneath him and that's when she sees it. _

_His fist. _

_At first she thinks he's going to punch her, but then his palm flattens and the slice wafts through the air. She can't move as the sting of his hand burns her skin. Did he just hit her? _

_What the hell? Elliot? Help me? She can't move but all Elliot is doing is resting next to her, seemingly oblivious to what's now going on next to him. She screams out to him in her mind but nothing comes out of her mouth. She can't breath because Eric's body weight has become much more than she can handle. _

_As she flinches and wriggles beneath him the more angrier he becomes. His hand raises behind his back once again and she anticipates the sting once more. _

_But it never comes._

_instead she looks back up and sees the sharp glare of silver, shining in the dim light of the cribs. In his hand he grasps a ridged butcher knife. _

_Her heart stops. _

_Elliot help me! She screams but nothing comes out of her mouth. _

_She glances over at Elliot one last time before she sees the glimmer in the corner of her eye as the silver blade cascades down on her. _

She shoots up in bed when the shrill noise coasts through the air surrounding her. Her heart is pounding, hair matted against her temples with sweat and fists clutching a handful of soft linen sheets in her hands.

With a final exhale, she sits up against the headboard of the bed and raises her eyes to the ceiling of her own bedroom.

Son of a bitch.

It was just a dream.

A really fucked up dream.

Actually a nightmare.

She shifts to sit on the side of the bed and rests the bottoms of her feet against the cool surface of the floor. What the hell was that? Her subconcious really needs a tune up after that.

It seemed so real despite the absurdity of it all. She feels ashamed.

It still feels like she actually had sex in front of her partner, her former partner, she beats into her own head. Still, that was the most fucked up dream she's ever experienced regarding him. And she's had really screwed up dreams before. It comes with the territory of dealing with pigs, rapists and killers on a daily basis, but this, this was really fucked up.

She rubs her hand over her temple pushing away the sweaty hair realizing that it's the middle of the night. Only seconds have gone by, but it feels like an eternity because of the images she continues to lets drift through her mind.

He was standing in the corner. Watching her. He was standing in the corner of her bedroom watching her have sexual intercourse with Eric. Eric who he doesn't even know about. He doesn't know about Eric because he's been gone for eight months and during which time he'd refrained from contacting anyone in their unit. And in that time it would explain his lack of knoweledge of Eric even more because her unit doesn't even know about him, for the sole reason that she likes to keep that little detail to herself because Eric can become a drunk bastard she's learned her one experience.

So yea, the whole damn dream was a little fucked up.

Once she gets her footing, she stands up and looks at her bedside clock. It's 2:48 in the morning. She'd only been in bed since around 11. Nights like these are the ones she wished she'd come onto a drug problem. She's never been on to abuse pills but some sleeping drugs would do her a world of good if just for tonight. Even if just for the sole purpose of not having another one of those dreams, she'd happily oblige to some right now.

As she starts for the bathroom, the shrill noise blasts through the air once again. The same one that had permeated her nightmarish haze as she had shot awake. When she looks toward her bed she realizes her cell phone had been going off. Softly, her footsteps pad toward her nightstand and she dreads who is on the other end of the line.

Please don't be work, please don't be work, she pleads. She can't imagine functioning at all in the next few hours after the restless night she's had.

When she picks it up, the ringing subsides and she faces a 2 missed calls emblem across the screen. She sighs and takes the phone with her to the bathroom. Once inside, she sits on the toilet and skims through the missed calls.

Huh. The two calls aren't from Fin or Munch. Or Cragen for that matter. The number is from an out of town area code from what she can tell. She can't place the area code but knows it's somewhere up north. As she sets down the phone the sink, she sits and listens to the stillness of her apartment, of her life. Closing her eyes, she finally lets loose and relieves herself before standing back up to take care of herself. When she goes to swipe across her lower region with the toilet paper in her hand, she feels moisture seeping down her inner leg.

For a quick second she panics as she remembers her dream and what she was doing in it.

She looks down expecting to see the remnants of sex to appear, despite knowing in the the back of her mind that it was only a dream. But when she finally looks down, she only finds a trail of red.

She swallows as she watches the light stream of blood trail down her inner thigh and she sighs in relief. It's her period. Quickly, she cleans herself up and takes care of what needs to be done before heading toward her bed.

Maybe I can get a few more hours of sleep she hopes as she slides beneath the covers, adjusting her pillows several times. She shifts from side to side a few times and eventually gets comfortable but her mind continues to run rampant with the memory of her dream.

It's been nearly 2 weeks since she's seen him. Eric. A few phone calls here and there have been their means of communication but other than that, she's done herself justice by keeping her distance from him. She's still not ready to get close to Eric again, if at all. He apologizes until he can't see straight everytime they talk and she wants to believe he's sorry for what he did, but no matter what he says she can't let his mishap go completely.

Their relationship meant the world to her. It had come at the right time. She was lonely and he had filled that void with more than she could have asked for. He had been simply what she had been looking for even if the timing had been right after the other man in her life disappeared. Which reminded her of her dream again.

Why the hell can't she stop thinking about it? Maybe it was the fact that Elliot was very casually watching Eric, a man he doesn't or shouldn't know about, fuck her brains out.

She misses Elliot dearly and it's been about as long as it has been for Eric since she's seen him. She still feels bad about what she said to him the other day. Things are going good at work but she still feels like shit when it comes to her personal life and Elliot.

"What should I do?" she calls out into the silent room. "Why is everything messed up right now? Did I do something wrong? Did I overstep my boundaries somewhere? Is it finally time for me to pay for who I am? I'm sure I was supposed to go through this. I mean everyone goes through a point in time like this. I just want to know what I'm supposed to do," she chokes. Her throat constricts slightly as she tries not to cry in the confined area of her room. "I just want someone to talk to. I have no one," she calls out into the open space around her. "I have no one and no one cares how I feel. I think about calling one of my colleagues but they don't understand and it's useless. _I have no one._ It's not like I'm close to the women I work with. Casey and Alex aren't around enough anymore to talk to and Melinda is the same. I have nobody," she finally cries out into her pillow. "I have no one," she continues to repeat, "and no one cares that I hurt because the one person who was by my side everyday is gone! He doesn't even care! Elliot doesn't even care. The thing is, I thought he would care. I thought he would have the decency to call more while he was gone. I mean, I would have called him if it were the other way around! It hurts! It hurts my feelings. I just want to feel whole again. I want to feel like there's something to look forward to again, not just running through the motions everyday. I've been strong for as long as possible but I don't know how much longer I can do it," she sobs into her pillow until she cries herself to sleep finally letting all the built up emotion out.

...

**The Next Day**

"You did very well today. I'm happy you're admitting some feelings you've been having. It's progress. Elliot, next time I want to go more in depth with these emotions, Ok? It can only help."

"Uh, thanks Dr. Talbot. I'll do my best. I'll see you next week?"

"Of course, Elliot. Oh and one more favor. This might help with our next session." The doctor takes a deep breath before patting Elliot on the shoulder. "Call her," the gentle therapist offers. She gives Elliot a reassuring smile as Elliot nods and walks out of the door.

The Manhattan sun beats down as the early noon air becomes more humid as the day progresses. People continue to file past him never suspecting his sessions above the small shopping mall.

_Call her._

He laughs to himself. Call her. He laughs again as he walks down the sidewalk toward his car. Call. Her. If only it were that easy. He's pretty sure she's pissed at him. He can't blame her. He's been selfish the last couple of months and he's trying to fix it, thus therapy. He gets into his car and quickly turns the ignition on. Waiting for a minute, he closes his hand around his cell phone resting in the cup holder. He slides it open sighing when the screen shows no signs of change. He was half expecting a missed call or two. He knows she saw the calls he placed last night. But, knowing her, she probably passed his calls off as someone with the wrong number.

He'd like to call her again but knows she is probably busy with work. He could call her desk phone. He really wants to apologize to her in person about how he acted that day in Cragen's office though. Ordering her around like he never left, like he owned the place, owned her.

That's a path he doesn't want to tread.

Without a second thought, he dials another number and in seconds the voice on the other end of the line is familiar, slightly calming .

"Don Cragen. Hello?"

He's silent for a moment, revelling in the sound of his former boss's voice. The order. The intent. The strength in his voice. He wishes he had that right now. He could surely use it.

"Hello?" his captain calls again and Elliot quickly clears his throat.

"Uh, sorry Don," he states, careful not to call him captain as he use to. "It's Elliot."

"Uh, Elliot," his former superior exhales as he says his name. "What can I do you for, how are you son?" he asks cautiously, still painfully aware of his absence in his squadroom. He hasn't seen or talked to Elliot since the last time in his office.

They had talked about what he was going to do in the last visit. Elliot hadn't been sure if he was ready to come back. Elliot had also mentioned something else that had made Don's heart ache a little for his unit... but even more so for the one it would affect the most, Elliot's partner.

"Uh, do you have some free time?"

Elliot can hear him shift the phone and then speaks softer when he hears his former captain close his office door. "Hmm, free time. I think I can figure something out. What's on your mind?"

"Well, I'd like to come in if that's alright. I want to take care of some other things too while I'm town," he admits.

Cragen is silent on the other end for a few seconds now, getting an idea of what his former detective means. Taking a deep breath he answers, "Of course, come on in. It's pretty slow today. I'll let Olivia know."

"Uh, you don't have to do that," Elliot utters slowly. "We're not exactly on good terms right now."

Cragen is silent for a few moments before he speaks tentatively. "Oh... ok. Well... I'll talk to you soon then."

"Yea, " Elliot sighs. "Bye."

Cragen hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath. He has a feeling what this is about and his heart sinks a little as he watches his current detective shuffle to her desk with a stack of files in her hands. This can go one of two ways he thinks. Bad or very bad.

He sits back down at his desk and stares out the clear glass windows leading out into the squadroom.

"Don," he says to himself, "you've got to be strong for her. She's like a daughter. Whatever, Elliot comes to say, you've got to be able to make things right." _Right_, he nods to himself sarcastically.

He's not sure if he'll be able to take the look on her face either way.

* * *

><p><strong>So is anyone still reading this? I'm only 5 reviews away from 100 and I haven't even posted 10 chapters yet! I just want to thank everyone who takes time to review. It means alot and I enjoy reading each and every one.. especially the trolls who like to leave anon reviews. Makes me laugh. ;) So as always reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading. <strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**UPDATE! lol... trust. me. That is all.**

* * *

><p><strong>If Walls Could Talk <strong>

**Chapter 10**

**1 Month Later **

The evening takes on a feeling of contentment.

The sun is going down as the clock reaches 9 p.m. and she's finally home at this kind of hour and about to crash on the couch and watch television.

Her living room is shrouded in dark, black and gray shadows slithering across the surface of her furniture like clingy doilies.

She pours herself a glass of wine and walks tentatively to her sofa and sits down.

Sitting in the complete darkness for a minute, she takes in the sounds permeating around her.

The light ticking of the clock is heard from her hallway, the usual hum of her fridge vibrates through the enclosed space of her kitchen and a brisk whistle of wind sifts through the cracks of her main apartment window.

Laying her head back against the cool surface of the couch, she lets her neck roll from side to side. The back of the couch provides a stiff surface to stretch and soothe the crick in her neck.

She's sore and tense like she's ran a marathon and the only thing that can explain the sudden onslaught of body aches is, she's just getting old.

She's still in good shape for 43 and still has some fight within her, but her body feels like a monster truck ran a few laps across her entire body.

As she sits in the darkness of her living room, her mind wanders like it usually does when she's alone, or in complete silence within herself.

She and Fin had chased a suspect up a flight of stairs and low and behold her body was paying for it now.

The rape suspect had almost gotten away even with her accuracy and pace running up those four flights of stairs.

Running a palm down the back of her tense neck she remembers what Cragen had said to her when she and Fin had returned back to the precinct.

Sitting on the edge of his desk he had mentioned how much work was being put on her and the rest of the crew. She had agreed and they both sat in his small office in silence for a few minutes. She sat in a chair in front of his desk and he on the edge of the front as she wondered what he was thinking.

Finally, shifting his weight on top of the desk, he had said something about new blood.

New.

Blood.

Meaning new detective.

She had inwardly cringed at the thought and then looked at her captain.

It was vastly approaching the year mark since Elliot had left and his absence was taking a toll on the unit. His former colleagues were in dire need of help.

After Cragen had dropped a particular bombshell to her last month she didn't think anyone would ever replace Elliot.

Hell, she still thinks it and probably always will as long as she steps foot in that precinct.

He'd put in his papers.

He wasn't coming back.

Her heart flutters as she remembers Cragen telling her this news in his office. Telling her to close the door behind her had sent that immediate panic alert through her mind and she knew something wasn't right.

At first, she thought the worst. She didn't want to think about that so she tentatively urged her captain on silently.

Nothing had ever stung so bad as did her captain's words as she stood hunched over in that empty interrogation room.

She could barely contain her sobs until she didn't. Sobbing was her only release.

It hurt. Badly. Why couldn't he have told her himself? He had plenty of opportunities to tell her himself. But learning from her captain had told her something was definitely not right between them.

She could hardly ever remember feeling that way in her adult life or any circumstance for that matter. Not even when her mother died. Her heart didn't break half as much.

Elliot put in his papers.

A few simple words in context but searing words in meaning, burned through her soul ten times worse than she could have ever imagined.

Her partner wasn't coming back.

What did that say about her? She didn't want to think about it. It wasn't good for her that's for sure.

Sitting the glass of wine on the coffee table, she grabs the remote and clicks the television on. Immediately, she mutes it and just watches the news captions as usual.

She'll meet the newest detective to their unit on Monday. At that thought, she stands up and goes to pour some more wine into glass and sits back down.

She realizes she fails to mention the little word replacement in her assessment of the new guy. What will he be like? Is he experienced? Will she be able to build a rapport with him and trust him like Elliot? Does she even want to?

Sighing, she closes her eyes and listens to the subtle sounds of her apartment.

Does he realize what he's doing to her? Elliot. She'd tried calling him after their little incident in his car. She wanted to make things right. They had spent too much time apart before that. So many months of not hearing from him. Vague details of his current life. And now, he refuses to answer her calls and voicemails. She must have really messed things up this time.

He probably went back to his wife. His kids. His home. She's probably long gone from his line of thoughts. She sure wishes that were true for her.

Next to her on the table where the lone lamp in the room sits, her cell phone begins to buzz with a new text message.

Grabbing it, she immediately takes a deep breath. She almost forgot about the last few months of her life. She wants to. She wants to start over. Start over by grabbing him in that squad room after all the techs and officers had left and just hold him. Tell him it would be alright. Maybe then, he wouldn't have left to find himself and leave her world turned inside out.

She looks down at the screen and swallows the lump in her throat.

_Hey. How are you? Would you mind meeting at the cafe down the street? It'd be nice to see you. Take care._

Without a second thought, she knows which cafe and sighs.

Before replying, she reminds herself that she is different now. She needs to keep reminding herself of that. Things have changed, people change. She sure knows that. Events in one's life don't define who they are all the time but they sure can alter their way of thinking and choices in the future.

Sighing, she pushes reply.

_Ok. Meet you around 7:30 tomorrow morning. Bye._

...

Reaching for her cup of coffee, she sees a tall figure appear in the doorway of the cafe. Inwardly she smiles not wanting to show her obvious reaction. She still gets that feeling in the pit of her stomach from his presence despite what's happened over the last few months.

He tentatively sits across from her with his own carry out cup of coffee and smiles lightly.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Reaching her hand out to the center of the table, he takes it lightly in his and looks in her the eyes. Sighing with relief, he strokes her hand with the tips of his thumb and index finger before pulling it back.

"Look, Olivia. I need to see you more."

Before he can continue, she shifts in her seat and looks off to the side. He notices her unease and continues hesitantly.

"I mean... eventually. I hope to see you more, soon. I can't tell you how much it has drained me not seeing you. That was punishment enough, not being able to explain myself."

Clearing her throat and then looking back into his eyes, she smiles lightly before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. More as an act of embarrassment than anything else. That's what she wants to forget. Start over. It's all a little surreal. It happened. So what? Move on?

"So... explain yourself," she urges on gently yet with a stern affirmativeness.

Fuck it. She's still tired as hell of being so goddamned lonely. She wants what they had early on. It's still possible.

He swallows deeply and starts to explain like he's never done before.

Her brown eyes never escape the green of his gaze the whole time and she wonders, why does life have to be so damn complicated?

...

He's lean. But not as lean as Elliot. He's got a air of confidence that exudes even from underneath that thick lumberjack beard of his.

"Shave that off," Cragen mumbles.

Ok, thinks Olivia as she tries to picture him without the beard. He looks experienced yet still younger than she. That doesn't worry her. She'd been about his age when she started the unit and she adapted fairly quickly.

She doesn't like him.

Sighing a puff of air, she stands up and walks toward her colleagues as her captain finishes his introduction to their new detective and Olivia's temporary new partner.

She'd been hell bent all morning about meeting him. Thinking today couldn't be enough of a stressor until she walked in, sat at her desk, turned on her computer and started typing. During that calm, she had heard a feminine voice coming from the elevator and couldn't quite grasp who she could be.

An officer had taken a box from her and she had headed off with Cragen on the elevator.

What the hell?

Was her new partner or new colleague a woman?

Despite the brief confusion, Olivia had quickly learned who she was. Arriving almost a full day before her fellow new co-worker, Amanda Rollins, strolled in almost immediately in tune to work their current case. She came from an SVU in Georgia.

Olivia hadn't liked her either.

Like Amanda Rollins, Detective Nick Amaro hadn't even made her flinch. She wanted her old partner back.

She wanted to sit across from Detective Elliot Stabler instead of the empty shell of a desk.

Sighing, she holds her hand out to the younger man and he smiles sheepishly at her. With a small smile of her own, she welcomes him reluctantly.

"Welcome to SVU. It's not for everyone," and steadfastly walks away.

...

On the car ride to their next case, Olivia looks over at Amaro and swallows a lump in her throat. She doesn't know what to say to him.

He glances at her also, and she feels his eyes on her.

"So, what brought you to Manhattan SVU?" she tries lightheartedly.

"Uh. I came for change. Heard there was an opening so to say in the SVU here so I bargained and here I am," he explains sharply ready for her onslaught of questions. He's recognized since he first laid eyes on her, she wasn't privy to the idea of him working alongside her.

"Well, like I said. SVU is different than most units. Not many last long here. Just make it through this interview," she smirk as they approach the neighborhood of a potential special victim.

The car becomes silent as they continue to ride. The air isn't uncomfortable, but neither one of them can get past the fact that it seems they should say something. Olivia hits a pothole and the sedan jerks slightly but the low hum of tires on pavement fill the confines of the car.

The late afternoon air is cool despite the warm, humid day it was. It's approaching summer and she can't imagine the hot weather New York City will experience this summer. Late spring has already shown it's dark side with warm days turning to muggy nights.

As a flare of sun light pours through the windshield, temporarily blinding Olivia's sight, she blinks several times trying to rid the orange and yellow flare from her eyes.

As she turns up the street, Amaro finally speak up feeling confident.

"How was he?"

Not sure what he's referring to, she turns her head slightly toward him, blinking once, then turns back toward the road. "Excuse me," she asks curiously.

"Your former partner? I can tell you weren't happy to see me. I must not look up to par for your partner's replacement."

"I wasn't... uh, I'm just adjusting you know? And temporary... " she trails off remembering Elliot's actions of turning in his badge. "I mean, we'll be all working together. But to answer your first question, Detective Stabler was one in his own. You'll learn," she offers softly pulling off to the side of the street and parking the car.

"Yea... noted," he nods and starts to pull open his door.

"Just..." she begins again before he fully opens the door. "I was told to just show you the ropes this time. Only time will tell," she mumbles under her breath as they both continue to climb out of the car.

An hour later and no more information than she had before coming, she and Amaro head back to the precinct. The ride is silent but comfortable.

At a red light, Amaro glances over to his new colleague and the overhead street light casts a red gleam across her cheek being he can only see her profile.

She seems nice enough he thinks. She also looks tired. He wonders how long she's been doing this? He takes a deep breath. "Detective Benson, how long have you been doing this? Not saying anything about you, but you look seasoned. Tired."

Smiling lightly, she keeps her eyes on the road as the light turns green and the car moves forward. Sighing before speaking, she chances a glance at the younger man and purses her lips for a second wondering what he'd think of her if he knew how long she's been living in the shadow of her job.

Finally, "Thirteen years," she answers swiftly, confidently, somewhat proudly. "And... I am tired," she answers and pulls to a spot outside the 1-6 and gracefully gets out of the sedan sending a final clunk of the door as it closes behind her. Amaro follows.

...

They walk down the sidewalk at half past nine and she's smiling. He's been nothing but gentleman-like and careful the whole night, never taking too much and keeping a safe distance as they walk toward her building.

He had taken her to dinner as a kind of peace offering. Apologizing for the enormous ass he had made of himself. He wanted to make things right. He may be hiding things from her but it's all in good interest. He's a drunk bastard, yes, but he also has a mission.

He's not going to lie. He's been attracted to Olivia since the day he met her, but the more he deceives her the more he feels guilty. He only really wanted to court her and find out what the pigs had on him, if anything at all, but now he's really starting to want more from her.

He's felt from the beginning that that could be a possibility but until now, he only thought that first night they met that she wouldn't give him a chance. She was a tough detective who didn't put up with shit. Now, he's seen a side of her and he wants to see more.

He wants to get inside again. Inside her head, her apartment, her bed. If only it weren't for his inability to garner her complete respect. A line was crossed. He got drunk. Took it out on her. Now, she'll never fully trust him again. What good five good months of a relationship did.

He holds out his arm and she takes it only to still keep space between their bodies as they approach her front stoop. She knows anyone, her friends, girlfriends, colleagues, would grill her for this, but she knows him. They don't. She knows what they shared the past several months. As much as she hates to say it, people make mistakes. Like Eric. He made a mistake. She's made plenty in her life and not everyone gave up on her. Cragen for instance. So many times had she been so out of line and on the verge of suspension but he never gave up on her.

Elliot. He never, ever gave up on her. Even when she felt do Oregon. He was willing to slide next to her in the sedan on the next case or walk in stride with her when she came back like nothing ever changed. She can do the same.

Eric has shown he wants to prove himself to her. He's been good for her. She feels alive around him. Something she'd only really felt while around her work life. Around her partner, around other people.

She'll think long and heavy about rebuilding this relationship. She'll think about it because she wants it. He was good to her. One night. One night! He made a mistake. Is it worth ending something great they had over just one bad move? He's apologized until his lips turned blue and has tried showing her she's worth the fight. That's something isn't it?

She's a smart woman. She knows when women go back to abusive spouses. Thinking about her situation with Eric, it's different. Maybe, not by much but she realizes she has an out and that's what's important. If he does anything of the likes again, which she seriously doubts, she will single handedly shoot him there on the spot. No man, no man will ever lay a hand on her.

Opening the door to the inside of her apartment building, she hesitates when he waits for her to enter the foyer. "Uh, dinner was great Eric. Call me if you want," she says warmly.

"Sure," he offers back with a smile of his own. She starts to walk in and he starts to close the door behind her when she calls back.

"Oh... and thanks," she offers. Pursing her lips she starts to walk down the hallway when he answers.

"You're welcome, Olivia. Sure you don't want me to walk you up?" he offers innocently.

Feeling complacent with their current situation, she turns without moving her feet and smiles at him. He takes the hint and starts to walk away smirking. Once she hears the front doors to the building close and knows he's not behind her, cautious as ever still with him, she turns toward her mailbox before heading toward the elevators. She notices a thick stack of mail when she opens it and realizes it's been a couple of days since she's checked her mail.

She reaches in and pulls all the contents out and gets on the elevator. Fingering through the mail in her hands, she comes across several bills and junk mail. At the bottom of everything, and obviously the earliest piece of mail in her mailbox, she pulls out a crumpled yellow envelope with her name and address on it. Placing the other mail inside of her bag, she opens it and carefully pulls out the small amount of bubble wrap inside the envelope.

Bringing her hand back out of the small space, she revels in the feel of the cool surface against her skin. When she looks down, her heart skips a beat. Even without a return address, she already knows who this is from.

The small, round object sits in the palm of her hand as she reads the emblem. An eagle standing atop a globe can be seen in the middle of the medallion and around the edge she reads, "Semper Fidelis United States Marine Corp."

Her eyes start to blur. What does this mean? Her heart begins to pound until she can feel it in her ears. She closes her fist around it and closes her eyes willing the moisture underneath her lids to cease. At least until she can get inside her apartment.

She needs to get in there soon so she can analyze what this is, what it means and why?

Just as she's about to place the object back into the envelope, the elevator doors open to her floor.

There's no return address she realizes and she wants to know if Elliot brought it here himself because there's no stamp on it either. Just as this little piece of information resonates in her mind, she looks up and glances down the hall in front of her.

She doesn't process the sight at first but once she does, she stops in her tracks. Standing against the wall across from her door is the one person who can answer all these questions.

Elliot.

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><p><strong>Well here were are! Elliot baby. Come give mama a keeessss.. lol.. sorry. I guess everyone knows about the cut scene with the Semper Fi 'note.' Well, I loved the scene even though there could have been more to it, know what I mean? I just wanted to incorporate the gesture myself into my own fic since it takes place after season 12 and during season 13. Definitely going down my own route on how everything unfolded with the newbies and all. It is fic right? I don't want to copy the show wholeheartedly but anyways... hope it was worthwhile. We're moving along in EO land and angsty stuff ahead. Fair warning ;) Next update may or may not be during Thanksgiving vacation. I was a little disappointed with the lack of response I got for the last chapter. I'm not going to beg for reviews but it does help when I get constructive reviews that help inspire me write the next part and continue this story. Thanks for reading ;)<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Well, I know it's been a long time since I've updated this and I do apologize. To be totally honest, I lost interest in writing this because I was reading such amazing post Smoked, pre Scorched Earth fics that I felt this was sub par. But, with that being said, I found my niche while starting "Cruz." I don't know if any of you are reading that as well, but if not, please feel free to check it out on svufiction and let me know what you think. I'm going to try and finish that one up before I continue this or Embers, which is on svufiction too. There's only going to be a few more chapters left of this, so, thanks for the amazing reviews thus far. I appreciate the support and hope all is well. Thanks for reading :)**

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><p><strong>If Walls Could Talk<strong>

**Chapter 11**

She's frozen in place.

He hasn't noticed she's watching him yet and that's good. It gives her time to turn around and flee back into the elevator if she so pleases. Just as she's about to do just that, she watches as his head pops up sensing her presence in that odd way they know one is around without having to see or hear them first. She trembles.

His back is pressed into the wall directly in front of her apartment door. His eyes are drooped low like he's been thinking about something long and hard. Her heart skips a beat. Swallowing against the dryness of her throat, she clears it and then raises her head, walking towards him slowly, hesitantly. Without saying a word, she looks him in the eye as she passes him and walks toward her door, pulling the keys out of her pocket while maneuvering her bag in her other hand.

Facing toward the door, she thanks him internally for coming to her because she's the one with problems now. Despite the feeling shock she had felt by seeing him for the first time in weeks a few moments ago, she quickly comes to realize that that initial loss of words will slowly dissolve into questions soon, she assumes because she knows she has some for him.

He's the one who left after shooting that girl, but she's the one suffering without him. He's here and her chest swells with overwhelming pressure.

She turns around abruptly and when she does, he's only inches from her face. "What are you doing here?" Her voice is low, thick with unshed emotion.

"Olivia..." he pleads but then he stops and looks off to the side. After a moment of hesitation he looks back to her with his hands in his own jacket pockets, glancing down at his shoes. "I don't know what I did exactly, but I'm sorry. I know I left, Liv. I know I've done things that I shouldn't have..." he trails off in a rapid succession of apologies. Something else is going on in his head too because she can read it in the pupils of his icy blue eyes. She's always been able to read him in ways no one else could.

Taken back by this line of conversation and not him asking her reasons for her actions in the recent past, she clears her throat to stop him. Everything is so fucked up. She's thinking about how she could have pissed him off that day in the car when he took her home, when suddenly the reason she was mad at him in the first place comes rushing back into her mind.

He had left her.

Suddenly, she's angry. But, it doesn't show because she's more relieved he's standing mere inches from her face. She can feel his heat radiate from beneath his clothes and she shivers.

"Elliot, don't..."

"No, Liv. I can't do this anymore..."

"Do what?" she pleads because really this whole time without him has been a learning experience. She's been learning to live without him finally. He needs to understand that he hurt her and now he needs to let her lick her wounds. "Do what, Elliot?"

"Live like this. I'm tired of waiting, I'm tired of watching, I'm tired of hurting too, Olivia!"

She swallows again and suddenly her heart is in her throat. Maybe he is talking about that day, she can't be sure, she needs things to be back like they were before between them. She needs to be on the same page as him.

She worries for a second that he might be drunk and she can't have that again, with anyone. A few seconds pass and she wonders if he's done talking, done sulking and ready to actually say something relevant and not all these vague sentiments she wishes like hell she understood because her heart is hammering against her chest right now.

Slowly, tentatively, she lowers her keys and bag, letting the weight of the purse fall to the ground. "Elliot, you're not making sense."

He's looking at the ground again and he shifts on his feet. "I don't know what I'm doin'-, " he trails off as he rubs the back of his head frustratingly.

"Elliot," she blurts out softly. There's no way around this now. She's just going to say it. They've never been good at this communication thing so what the hell. "You left me," she whispers as tears lace her voice. "You left me, Elliot. What the hell was I supposed to think when you didn't even answer my phone calls? Not even a text to let me know you were goddamn LEAVING for good!" she seethes. "So yea, I'm mad. I'm _angry,_ but I can let it go if you just explain something to me."

He glances up quickly, his eyes downcast and red rimmed as if this is killing him as much as her. He sucks in his bottom lip and pulls out his hands from his pockets. With her back pressed against her apartment door, he can lean in and whisper to her in a hushed voice so she can't move and it makes her breath catch. His right hand lands on the wood surface of the door right next to her head as he leans in. His focus is set on her hands clasped against her chest as he speaks.

"I didn't mean it," his voice is low, melancholy. "I didn't want to hurt you too. I was a miserable bastard and I was only going to hurt you more if I stayed. If I had to call you Olivia, I would have hurt you. It's not an excuse I know... but I was trying to do something right. I've done it all wrong so far. I'm losing everything! I can't do that anymore. I need to let you know that before it's too late." He takes a deep breath and chances a glance up at her.

"Yea, I understand that. But _why_? I don't understand that. Why couldn't you talk to _me_? I was there!"

"Dammit, Olivia. It's not that simple. I'm sorry. You don't put what was going on in my mind on other people. I know you were there, I know that you understand things that I go through more than anyone else, but Liv. I'm telling you, I had no choice. I thought I was doing you a favor."

"And you know what, Elliot?"

He sighs and stands up straight, shifting his hand higher on the door. "What?"

"DON'T do me any favors! I felt like I had done something wrong. THAT was what hurt most."

She watches him deflate in front of her, like he's at a loss of what to do. This is the first conversation regarding it all and it's in the damn hallway of her apartment. He shakes his head sadly and wipes his mouth with the palm of his hand. "I'm sorry, I need you to forgive me, to understand. I know it's going to take awhile for you to understand my reasoning but I NEED you to not hate me. I couldn't take it," he trails off.

She feels her own eyes well up with tears but she can't feel anything from the way his voice numbs her. Very few times had she thought of what he might possibly be going through with everything that had happened. In the back of her mind she had know he could be suffering, hurting because of what he did. But now she knows and she can see in his eyes that he's lost something else. "I know, Elliot. I'm sorry too. It's hard you know?"

He nods. "Yea, I do," he says in a harsh whisper.

Silence overtakes the hallway and down the hall a door opens and an older woman with a can walks past them nodding. They both nod in turn as if nothing out of the ordinary is taking place instead of a life altering conversation that both so desperately need right now. When the older woman disappears into the elevator, Olivia swallows and huffs out a breath of air. Finally, she decides to clear the air.

"Elliot, I didn't mean to do that to you in the car. I shouldn't have... I wasn't thinking," she stops because really she was in to no capacity to think straight with the concussion and all that day. Also, she can't be mad at him. There's this deep feeling within for him, that connection that allows her to grasp what's going on inside of him. She'd lost that connection but it's slowly coming back as she feels his body heat shift in front of her again.

Yea, it hurt. He left her, but Jesus, this is Elliot. The man is a bastard sometimes but he does things for others. He's done it repeatedly over the years, for the victims, for the job, for his kids, his wife and for her. He's given so much of himself that he wants to make sure he's protecting everyone else too even if it hurts him in the process.

Suddenly that thought sears through her and she looks up and his head is turned away from her. His chest his trembling and her heart aches for him.

He turns back to her and shakes his head sadly. "I know I pushed you the other day too. I don't think, Liv. I'm sorry. I'm sorry,... " he says solemnly.

Despite the evening she'd had with Eric, the elation she'd finally felt again with him after what they'd been through, her heart aches longingly for the man in front of her. She drops her hands to her side and lets the purse handle go, allowing it drop to the ground.

She takes a deep breath and places the key in her pocket for now. Reaching for him, she hesitates before letting her hand drift toward his cheek. Her palm grazes the stubble on his skin and then her palm lands on his shoulder.

"Elliot," she breathes into him as she leans forward, her breath hitting the side of his face. He turns from her and her breath catches. A pang of hurt pulses through her chest and she can feel the tears well up behind her eyes from the rejection. "Elliot..." she pleads soflty.

Gripping his shoulder in her fingers, she tries to turn him toward her but he's shaking his head. "Don't... don't do that, Liv."

She's confused. "I don't understand."

"Don't confuse this as something when you're already _involved_." His voice is low and persistent in his own rejection she realizes.

"What?" It hits her square in the chest, his words are filtering into her mind but it's not registering.

"I left that a few days ago," he nods to her bag, the yellow envelope visible at the top.

She looks down, nodding. "Yea, I've been busy. I haven't had a chance to check my mail."

He nods as well. "I can tell."

She shakes her head in confusion. He's not making sense and she takes a deep, shuddery breath as she watches him run a hand across the back of his cropped hair cut.

"You can tell what?" she asks softly, worriedly.

He swallows and shifts on his feet again and places his palm lower on the door next to her head until it's mere inches from her shoulder. "You love him?" he whispers, barely audible in the hallway only accompanied by the slight buzzing of the over head light. The question isn't angry, hurt, accusatory or even territorial. It's friendly and it hurts a little and she's not sure why.

She takes another stealthy breath and runs a hand through her longer hair, and steps forward slightly. She's confused. Is he talking about Eric? Shaking her head, a little bit of nervousness overtakes her. "You following me?"

Her own question isn't angry, or annoyed, just curious and a little worried. She does NOT want Elliot to know about what has happened the past few months with Eric. She cannot handle Elliot's reaction to real reason behind the welp on her forehead the last time she saw him.

He lets out a small laugh and then catches her eyes as he peers down at her. Taking a deep breath, he adjusts his stance, placing his weight against the door. "No," he breathes into her space. "I saw you one day. _Sounded_ like it was serious..." he trails off in a low voice, void of emotion. That's until his next words come out louder, stronger. "You didn't answer me..." he says matter of factly.

"Elliot, just now... you know I didn't mean to... You know I wouldn't jeopardize your..." she trails off as he places his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"Hey, hey... I know, Liv. I know. It's instinctual. I know you," he drawls out with a smile and it makes her feel better but not completely with the line of questioning this conversation has taken. After a few silent moments that have become the normal thing between them, she swallows and watches him look her in the eye and whisper almost sadly. "So?" he huffs as he places his palm back on the door and the other in his jean pocket.

Gulping for air she hadn't realized she was missing in her lungs, she looks off to her right and shuts her eyes tightly. In a low hum against the back of her throat, the words come. "Yea." It's a simple answer and she watches Elliot silently release a long rush of air from his lungs. "I _did_ love him." She braces herself mentally for the words about to come out of her mouth, because she's now realizing they're true. "And no. It's not serious. It could've been though..." her voice trails off with a tinge of hurt and she purses her lips, looking away from Elliot's face not wanting to see his obvious joy at having her to himself again, if at all, she wonders.

It hurts sometimes thinking about how sure she'd been about Eric and how she thought she could marry him one day. But, after their ordeal, she just wants to be friends with him again. He's earned that much. Sleeping with again, that's pretty much out of the question.

Elliot's head bows in front of her and he scoffs a litte. She has a nagging worry in her stomach of what exactly that action means.

Is he happy she said that in past tense? Or is he telling her in no certain terms that he doesn't like it, like usual? She's not sure and it's making her uneasy.

She sees him look up then from the corner of her eye and when she turns her head to look back at him, his eyes aren't full of sorrow and anguish anymore as they had been a few moments ago, but filled with a relief? She can see him swallow and then he drops his arm from the door. Standing up straighter, he whispers. "What happened?"

She looks him in the eye and shakes her head. "Nothing... long story."

"Well, I have all night..." he offers half-heartedly. She's not sure what to make of that until she sees the briefest yet very apparent smile on his face. "Can we talk..." he nods toward her door. "In there?"

She hesitates slightly and sighs looking down at her hands. Nodding, she motions with her head and he steps to her side as she grabs her bag and reaches for her keys. "Yea, come in. It's getting late. I don't want the neighbors calling me to come talk to the people talking too loudly in the hallway," she jokes.

His smile is brighter this time and she can't rememeber the last time she saw him do that. It's endearing and she can't help but want to drop her bags again and wrap her arms around him tightly if only to keep that look on his face for a long time. If not forever. She's missed that with them. The easy banter, the jokes, them.

Realizing she's staring at him when he looks up and she hasn't turned around to unlock her door yet, she clears her throat and looks down to her pocket. Noticing that he hasn't budged either as his intense stare lingers on her face, she swallows hard as she searches her pocket for the key. "Sorry, I had the locks changed," she says using it as an excuse for her lack of mobility and simple action of putting her key in the key hole. Immediately, she sees the concern and edginess in his stance.

He smiles and nods a little before leaning against the wall as she inserts the key, opening the door. He follows her inside as she holds the door for him, simultaenously placing her belongings on the table just inside. Remembering her romp with Eric against the very same wall the table is against, she sighs. Her time with Eric is still fresh in her mind and she can't help worry that Elliot will see that stain on the carpet next to the couch where he's sitting.

She's not sure she can handle those kinds of questions tonight.

But he's her partner, it doesn't matter to her if they aren't physically working together anymore. They'll always be partners, best friends as long as she knows him. She can trust him. She trusts that he will know when and what to ask when they have this inevitable conversation that will elaborate on the one they were having outside. She makes a mental note to keep all conversation on him and not her problems. She just needs him.

...

An hour later, they're both sitting on the couch, the living room dim and the television on mute like she usually has it. He's relaxed on one corner of the couch, she on the other as they sip their drinks. She's drinking wine and he's got one of her left over beers from her fridge door. The mood is complacent and she wonders how all this time had passed with it feeling like this with him again.

It's a comfortable silence and the televsion flashes bright light across the surfaces of the room, causing dancing shadows over their perched forms on the couch.

She's the one to break the silence.

"How come you have all night? Is there something I should know?" she whispers, her voice slightly cracking at the notion he has some things he needs to tell her.

Gulping and setting his beer bottle down on the coffee table, he adjusts his position and then turns to face her, his eyes weary from what he's about to tell her.

"I don't have anywhere to be tonight."

She purses her lips expecting more and tilting her head to to the side. "That's not an answer," she says, her voice thick with moisture.

He sighs and leans his left elbow on the back of the couch as he stares down at her bent knee resting on the couch. His eyes then make their way to hers and he swallows thickly. Rubbing his forehead with his palm, he elaborates.

"I uh... it gets lonely."

Not understanding, she moves her back against the corner of the couch and then sets her glass of wine on the table next to his bottle. Shaking her head, she tries not to let it get to her that he's telling her what she thinks he is. So she lets him continue.

"My apartment is quiet. Not many neighbors and the ones I do have are all older folks," he pushes out all at once in a hurried explanation like the one earlier.

She takes deep breath and tries to regulate her breathing as he slowly explains that he's not living at home with his wife and kids but in an apartment. That can mean one of two things. His voice yet again interrupts her thoughts.

"It's better when the kids come by, it's not as quiet."

That's when she stands up, pushing her way to the kitchen to get some more wine. She can't believe it. He's not at home anymore and a part of her wants to drag his ass out of her apartment and take him to his wife so they can work it out, another part of her wants to run to him and squeeze his face in between her palms and tell him he doesn't have to be by _himself_. But, they've never been able to tell each other what they mean so she goes to the kitchen and comes back as he's raising the half empty beer bottle to his lips in concentration.

She's not going feel guilty for his failed marriage, she's not. She feels sad for him of course but she she's not going to feel guilty. He's had chances to save it, and if it hasn't worked... god she doesn't want to think about that right now. She wants to know when this all happened and if the shooting caused it. Jesus, he has been going through alot.

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you been living at your apartment?"

He thinks for a few seconds and then turns to look her in the eye. "I moved in about three months before the divorce was finalized." He stops and looks at her gauging her reaction as her breath catches.

Divorce? Assuming by the tone of his voice, it's real this time. Shaking hear head she turns toward the television and takes a sip of her wine. "How long ago was that?"

"Eight months ago."

She turns her gaze to him quickly. "What? Eight months ago? That was ..."

"I know."

"You moved out before the shooting?"

"Yea," he breathes out in a soft whisper.

"What happened?" she asks just as softly.

He shakes his head and leans back against the corner of her couch with a sad, forlorn look on his face.

"It was... after a fight we had, I realized I couldn't take it. I'm tired of the back and forth game. I'm getting too, old. My kids are getting to tired of this. I needed to do something..."

"A fight?"

"Yea, Liv. It was after that case where that little prick accused me of molesting him at booking and when Kathy found out about it, she went on a rant that day about how I was keeping things from her again. And to tell you the truth, I didn't care. I just... the way she talked to you on the phone, and knowing you understood me better than she did, it hit me. I needed out. I needed to make myself better to make everyone else better. You know I hadn't seen Eli in close to two weeks before that day. I felt like I didn't know my own son and I still felt like that when I was with him, I wasn't doing something right. It was the job, but it was somthing else too," his voice falters and dips low with emotion.

"Is that why after the few months of phone calls you started ignoring mine? You would have been only two months away from a full divorce the first time you called..." she trails off thinking about that time last year.

Sighing, he wraps his arm around the back of his head and drops his chin against this chest. "Yea, I was in the process when I called. I didn't want to worry you or tell you my problems. Liv, I know what this job does to people. I had to take care of things and I'm hoping it was for the best..."

Listening to him talk makes her chest swell with sadness yet elation that he's sitting with her, talking to her finally. "You did what you thought was right," she tries to console him from her corner of the couch.

His head pops up and he glares over at her. "Don't give me that," he throws out solemnly. He then bows his head and shakes it just as quickly. "I'm sorry, Liv. I didn't mean it, you're right" he softly says and it sounds like he's crying.

She doesn't say anything but put her glass down again and then move slightly to the middle of the couch. Once situated closer, she gently, wearily, places her hand on his jean covered thigh. She always loved when he wore jeans. Even now, she can't help but notice how much easier it is to touch him with that semblance of the past with him. "It's ok," she says softly as she rubs her palms upward a hair of an inch and then back down on his thick, muscular thigh.

"No, it's not. But you are right. I did the right thing. The more I think about it, I can finally say it. It's just ... I did it too late. About five years too late. I love my son, but I still mess up with him."

She doesn't say anything but look up to him as he scratches his upper lip with his thumbnail. She watches as he suddenly realizes she's touching him, staring at her hand running small up and down patterns on his thigh.

He shifts nervously and then stills as he realizes that he's content with her right now. He needs her to listen and that's what she's doing. They need each other right now. They'd needed this months ago, only just now getting it.

Long silence permeates the darkened living room as late evening sets upon them. Only the bright glow of the television lights up the air around them. She glances at him and his eyes are half closed with his head turned half way toward the television just relaxing.

Her hand continues it's soothing pattern on his leg and she's not sure why she hasn't stopped but she can't stop touching him. It feels too good to do so. Suddenly, she remembers the yellow package in her bag and feels a wave of affection for him wash over her like never before.

She stops her ministrations on his thigh and wipes a tear she hadn't realized had escaped. "Thank you for the package. I love it, Elliot."

He looks to her and his eyes are round pools of moisture as well. He nods and his mouth contorts into a sad smile as he reaches for her hand on her own thigh. He places his palm under hers and squeezes tightly at first then eases up and squeezes it gently, never taking his eyes off of their conjoined hands. "You're welcome, Liv. It's true."

She watches thier hands in awe and tilts her head in wonderment at how far they've come in a few short hours after absolutely not understanding how they could treat each other the way they had. Now, here they are holding hands. She, Olivia, is holding Elliot's hand in her darkened apartment. It's surreal yet right in her mind. It feels good, really good to touch him.

"What's true?" she asks quietly.

He laughs softly then turns serious. "You're not usually like this," he says slowly, his voice low a drum. "I can tell I've hurt you, you've never questioned me as much as you have tonight. I'm sorry I damaged your trust," he says in a shuddery breath.

She tightens her grip on his hand. "No, you haven't. I just can't think straight right now, but that's good. It means I'm not feeling like I was. It's because we're talking." she says with a tearful smile.

He nods, "Yea, I think so."

The silence lingers between them again for long moments until then he breaks it this time. "Forever faithful, that's what I meant," he whispers. "It's true, Liv. I'll always be faithful to what we have, whatever it is," he softly laughs into the darkness.

She closes her eyes and when she opens them, she looks at him and he's staring back, the neon lights of the television flowing across the stubble of his face, reflecting a deep, intense stare toward her. His eyes are strong, slightly narrowed and dark with heavy emotion.

The feeling the look in his eyes elicits from her, frightens her. A sudden urge to cry hits her. She wants to cry but another emotion pulls at her as she stares back at him with the light of the television flickering over his face. Subconciously, she lets go of his hand only briefly as she scoots closer to him from her position on the center cushion. Once her thigh bumps his knee, she stops and looks at him. "Me too," she purses her lips and stares at him from only a few inches away.

Her breath catches as his right hand raises from his side and sweeps her hair from her face as his other hand braces his weight against the back of the couch. "I mean it," he whispers next to her ear as he leans toward her. His hands sweeps across her forehead and pushes the hair from her face as she looks up to him with only what she assumes are glossy eyes. She wants to put her hand ontop of his, but she's frozen from his touch.

She's always wanted him touch her for different reasons, just to know he cared or to just feel another human touch.

At that thought, at the rememberance of what they've said and revealed to each other, she gives in. She places her hand over his hand that's plastered to her temple and holds it there, watching his eyes close from the contact. Her eyes follow suit as she revels in the touch of his hand against her skin and the way his thumb rubs her index finger. She can't help it as another tear escapes and runs down her cheek. "I missed you," she whispers almost inaudbily.

She thinks he may have not heard her when he doesn't say anything for long moments. That's until, she feels the warmth of his hand leave her skin. She's disappointed for a brief second until she feels him tugging her arm and pulling her body toward his.

His hands skim her sides and run down the expanse of her back until his arms enclose around her torso. Before she realizes it, she's being pulled halfway into his lap. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his neck and breathes against the skin found there. Closing her eyes, she just revels in the smooth texture of his skin, of his scent. He smells like Old Spice and it makes her grin. She loves the way he smells no matter what he wears.

As she rests there, kneeling on the couch in front of Elliot, wrapped in his arms, she silently cries as he rubs small patterns across her back with his fingertips. Eyes closed tight, she revels in his touch and the sound of his voice as he whispers in a soothing tone. "I missed you too. More than you know."

Breathing into his neck, she adjusts her stance on her knees after long moments pass. Elliot notices her position and leans back against the arm of the couch. "Sorry, I'll let you back over to your side."

But she doesn't let go. "I don't want to let go," she mumbles into his neck.

"Then don't," he mumbles back with his mouth pressed against her hair. She then feels him move beneath her, his arms pulling her body flush against the hard planes of his chest as he scoots them both to a laying position. She feels his heart beat against hers as she stares at him. "What're you doin'?" she asks with partially raised eyebrows.

"Just getting comfortable," he says raising his brows in turn.

She laughs softly and adjusts herself atop of him. "You know," she sniffles, "I wasn't expecting this."

He smiles down at her as she looks up. "What?"

"Cuddling."

He shakes his head with a devious smile. "This isn't cuddling, Liv. Cops do not cuddle."

Shaking her head with a smile, she rests her head on his chest and shifts her back against the back of the couch so she's not laying completely on him but resting comfortably against his side. "I don't cuddle, El. But, I think this is pretty close to cuddling we'll ever get."

His chest rumbles under her head as he laughs into the night. He reaches for the remote and points to the television. "You watching that?"

Shaking her head no, she feels him raise the remote and turn the television off, the room basking in a soft glow from the streetlamps outside. The gold and silver streaks splay across their legs and she yawns at the sight, "You staying?"

"Mmm," he mumurs as adjusts beneath her. "Like I said, I don't have anywhere else to be. You mind?"

She shakes her head no again as she feels his hand creep up her back and splay palm first against the back of her neck, just under her hairline. It makes her shiver and her eyes droop low from the warmth seeping from his rough hand tickling her nape.

Slowly, lazily, she raises her hand against his chest and runs it up to his neck and back down. Rubbing half circles against his clothes chest, she whispers. "I don't mind at all. You can sleep right here. I'll go get you some blankets," she starts to move not wanting to remove her hand from him because of the new found ability to touch him so freely, easily.

As she starts to get up, he grips her neck more firmly, keeping her from moving. "Stay," he breathes soflty.

She does.

Her eyes lock with his as his head raises off the arm of the couch and his free arm placing one of the small pillow behind him at the same time. With a more elevated position for his head, he stares her in the eyes as she lays against his side.

Nodding, she grabs the throw and places it over their bodies. Checking one last time that he's sure about this, she glances at him and her her chest constricts once again. The pressure in her chest this time feels like ball of energy filled with electric intensity she's never felt before.

He's staring at her in the barely lit room, only able to find his gaze in the darkness because of the lone street lamp right outside her apartment window. His hand stills on her neck and raises higher to the back of her head as he leans his down. Her breath stops coming all together when he leans his head closer and closer til his lips are inches from hers. "G'night."

"G'night," she chokes out.

With that, he gently rubs his lips across hers in a feather light touch as her eyes roll back in her head from the sensation. He gently swipes his lips left to right and vice versa, sending chills down her spine. She wants to cooperate but she can't function with the feel of his lips brushing hers so intimately. He then puts slight pressure against her lips with his own, letting the kiss linger for a few seconds. After a few moments pass, his lips let up and he lays back down against the pillow.

She reaches up and runs her hands over his left cheek quickly before resting it by her side. Jesus Christ. Her breaths are silent pants into the darkness. She's surprised she can breathe at all.

They don't say anything for the rest of the night as the silence of the night overpowers them both, only the traffic of New York City playing in the background on constant repeat.

She lets her head rest against his heart as the soft beat lulls her into the dark abyss of near sleep. She feels him fall asleep first as his breaths even out and all she can think about before she succumbs as well, is the feeling of his mouth pressed against hers and the way he'd done it, so nonchalantly, dreamily, fulfillingly. She smiles in the dark for a split second before closing her eyes.

There's nowhere else she'd rather be at this moment.


	12. Chapter 12

****Hi, all! *smiles sheepishly* I know it's been, umm, a long time since I updated this but I was feeling in a really Christmasy mood, no a REALLY good Christmasmy mood so yeah, you'll find that out by the end of this chapter, and so I decided to update this one. I actually know what I'm writing next so I HOPE TO GOD, have the next part up soon.  
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****Oh, and I've never had a beta for this, so I apologize wholeheartedly for any typos, etc. I missed. Thanks for the wonderful reviews and MERRY Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone. :)  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>If Walls Could Talk <strong>

**Chapter 12**

* * *

><p>The air is tight and the night is silent all but for the lazy moans and shrill cries of apartment doors closing and opening up and down the hallway.<p>

The taxis outside on the streets still chime past and send swishing noises through the cracks and crevices of the building window's even though it's broaching on the early morning hours.

Down the hall, a faint buzzing cascades though the open slit of the occupant's door and it makes him feel chilled and he's not exactly sure if it's the cool night air or his nerves.

He takes a cigarette out of his flannel shirt pocket and lights it as it dangles from his pursed lips.

The faint orange glow from the tip burns his eyes as he takes a puff and swallows thickly into the dim hallway.

Across the hall, he watches the door. It stands closed but he sees right through it. Sees what isn't his anymore.

But he realizes that it's useless for him to deny that he really doesn't care. What's behind that door used to be his and the thought that it isn't anymore and that he's been thrown away, doesn't anger him.

It fuels him.

He takes a deep puff of his cigarette and puts it out on the thin carpeting. A dark brown circle singes the material just like what he's about to do is going to singe a hole in what's happening behind that door.

He may have been a fuck up and and he may have some problems, but he doesn't get "thrown away."

That's what he does. But she's different.

If she wants to play this game and use her shield to disway him, she's got another thing coming.

Straightening his back, he runs a sweaty palm down the back of his newly shaved head. He had made quick work of the growing shag as soon as he could after his friend had been questioned by her and that colored man.

He scoffs.

She's got all kind of men scurrying around her, waiting on her. Well he'll show her and they'll all see what she really is.

Especially him.

The _him_ he knows is in there right now, breathing in the air he had breathed the nights he'd been the one in there with her, touching her, having her.

Cracking his neck to the right, he opens his brown leather jacket and pulls out a small yellow envelope and skims his fingers down the rough paper, feeling the outline of the rectangular object inside.

Oh he had her. Often.

He licks his lips slowly and closes his eyes remembering all the encounters they had and lets his body drop back against the wall in the hallway filled with muffled sounds from end to end. His mind wanders to the moment when he didn't care about finding out what she knew about him but caring about who she was.

He's a fucker, but he wants her now. Probably more than ever. He'd been blinded by trying to woo her and find out what the NYPD had on him through her to "really" care. But he has eyes and she had been in his grasp and now she's not.

But it's okay. A little rummaging around the internet had him finding out exactly what he needed to know ontop of what he had known already about her.

If things go to plan, she'll be coming his way in no time he thinks as he clutches the yellow envelope in both hands while slowly moving his feet toward her apartment door.

The air relaxes around him a bit as he bends down and places the package against the door, the noiseless room on the other side prompting him.

But it won't be for long.

As he stands back up and starts to walk away, a trace of a smile forms on his lips. He glances down feeling absolutely stricken with victory as he reads his own writing on the top of the envelope:

To: Elliot Stabler

_She's a wild one._

_...  
><em>

He feels her shift against him and in a few tries, he pries his eyes open, looking down at her sprawled form across his chest. Her wavy brown hair cascades across his clothed torso and her right hand rests next to her cheek.

Reaching down, he brushes a few strands away from her face and immediately sees she's still sound asleep.

They must've moved around in their sleep because her legs are now intertwined with his when her back and body had been pressed against the couch to start off with.

He cranes his neck and checks the clock next to her couch and it glares back at him in green neon numbers 6:10 a.m.

Dropping his head back down onto the couch pillow, he looks back down at her.

It's been months since he's seen her. Really seen her. And right now, so many emotions are coursing through him.

They had kissed last night. He kissed his former partner. The thought of the act alone and then the feeling of her warmth and softness against his body sends him into realization.

He shifts slightly and as he does so, her head pops up slightly and all thoughts of the situation at hand go out the window when she speaks in a low, husky voice still filled with sleep.

"Am I too heavy?"

He laughs at the sound of her voice and the fact he may be a little more than turned on from their position so he hooks a finger through her hair, to distract her and himself.

"Nah, I was just... stretching."

"Ok," she smiles as he watches her eyes close but he knows she's not going to go back to sleep anymore than he is. "I have to get up in a few minutes anyways. It's just so comfy right here," she continues and her voice slowly fades out.

He swallows thickly as she nuzzles her nose into his chest before placing her forehead on his chest and pushing herself up with arms on each side of his torso.

"You ever think about using one of those things called vacation days?" he jokes with a groggy smile.

As she sits up on her knees, stopping mid motion to get off the couch, he can't help but notice the position it leaves her in as she straddles him.

She yawns and hesitantly locks eyes with him with a small smile of her own.

"No work and all play makes Jack a dull boy, Elliot. You know that," she grins as she bends down to maneuver her leg over his upper thighs.

Before she gets far, he doesn't know why he does it, but he does and pulls her by her arm until her ass is planted squarely on his lap. Pulling her toward him with all joking aside, he takes in the startled expression on her face as he moves his inches from hers.

"That's not how the saying goes, Liv."

Her eyes narrow and he can see her grin slowly appear just as his does and this flirtatious thing their doing is so new yet so subtle at the same time like they have been doing it forever.

He gently lets her go and she sits back up on her knees, still straddling his lap.

"Elliot, you know I can't function unless I'm working. Let alone trying to function when I leave the precinct."

"Yea, I know," he smiles up at her as she places a strand of her own hair behind her ear. He takes a deep breath and instantly he feels her shift on top of him and a slight awkwardness bombards them because of their position.

Olivia places her hands on her bents knees as she bites the inside of her lower lip.

"I know this is kind of an awkward topic of discussion but I need to know, El," she starts.

He shifts once again until she moves off of him and to the cushion his legs vacate as he sits next to her on the couch.

"What exactly?"

"I need to know what this is," she continues. "What last night and ... right now, is about."

She chances a glance at him from the corner of her eye and he catches her eyes for a split second before she lets her body fall against the back of the couch. He watches her fiddle with her fingers as he tries to come up with why things had happened the way they had in the last twelve hours.

He needed to see her. He needed to let her know what was going on in his life and to know what was going on in hers. And things just happened. It's as simple as that. He felt free for the first time and he took an opening.

She was there and he'd never felt more free than he did last night, finally letting it all out and having her there for him as she normally would.

How can he put that into accurate words for her so she understands?

"Olivia, I don't mean to spring anything on you. I just, there was nowhere else I could do this."

Immediately, she sits back next to him and searches his eyes for what he suspects is a more in depth meaning.

"Nowhere to ... do... what exactly? I waited for you to let me know how everything was going and well, you never did."

"Wait, a second. Olivia that's not what I meant. I know you were there. I don't want to get into that again. I fucked up alright. I fucked up by not letting you in. I didn't let anyone in remember?"

He's half shouting and he recognizes immediately how she recoils back into the sofa, biting her bottom lip and staring down at her crossed arms.

"I know. I'm sorry. I know..." she repeats.

With a heavy sigh, he continues. "I mean, I needed you, only you last night. You're the reason I'm sitting here 'functioning' right now. I'm sorry it took so long, but I tried to explain it last night. I guess I failed."

She takes a deep breath behind him and moments later he feels her thimble fingers grasp onto his shoulder as she pulls herself level with him again.

Without saying a word, and slightly startling him, she places her palms on each of his cheeks and turns him to face her, locking eyes with his and taking shallow breaths. They stare at each other for a few moments, the air thickening with tension as they breath in synchronized breaths within their close proximity.

It takes the refrigerator buzzing to life to break their trance and that's when Olivia drops one hand to her lap while the other still grasps softly at his cheek that is delicately lined with his new 4 o'clock shadow.

He hears her swallow thickly and then watches as her eyes slowly rise to meet his again. "What are we going to do now?" she asks softly.

"I think you said you needed to get ready for work," he offers impishly.

Her eyes narrow. "You know what I mean."

Puffing out a breath of air, he reaches hesitantly for her hand in her lap. He's never done this before. In twenty plus years of marriage, not once did he think he'd ever have the chance to start over fresh and be with someone new yet familiar all in the same. He never gave himself second thoughts on what to do if he ever had that chance with anyone, especially Olivia.

Often than not, he was cold towards her to ward off any thoughts in that direction. It was his mechanism. He knew they were too close and that if he just let down his guard for even a split second with her, he'd find himself lost within her.

So to prevent it, he vowed to never let it happen. He was married. He had married at a young age because of a horny teenage tryst, but he had vowed then as a teenager and later on a as a grown man to make up for his fuck ups by doing at least one thing right. And though he'd fucked up most things in his life, he hadn't totaled his marriage completely and that was his salvation for everything else.

For being a shitty father, for being a shitty son, for knocking up his high school girlfriend, for disappointing his father, for failing to do everything he had imagined doing as a young man.

But once he had met Olivia, he felt that he had a chance to be something again even if he was failing miserably everywhere else. He felt that he was something again. He could feel that he was something to her and that brought new life into his disposition.

His marriage had failed anyways because of he and his wife. It was never Olivia. If he's honest with himself, he let Kathy down because he began falling apart before he even met Olivia.

It was involuntary but it happened.

So as he squeezes her hand, all that he can say escapes.

"This is hard for me you know. Liv. I don't say the right things, I find myself on the losing end of conversations more times than not because I don't know what I'm doing. I have five kids who I love with all my heart and an ex-wife I loved for twenty-five years, but in all this, this... this here is the only thing I know what I'm doing. I just don't know..."

She cuts him off.

"Elliot..." she breathes out with a catch in her breath. "You don't know what..." she trails off.

"I just don't know how to not mess this up. With, with you."

She takes in a long, deep breath and then purses her lips. He turns around and simultaneously places his elbows on his knees with is head in his palms. He probably just fucked up again but insinuating what he had. It's been months of not talking to her and now he wants to move to the next level with her.

He's so stupid he realizes as he slaps his palms against the side of his head a few times. He feels her smaller, softer hands grasp his and he turns into it as she pulls him into a hug, her only way of calming him down in this moment he realizes.

"God, Elliot," she seethes but without anger. "I've needed you so much these past months you asshole. But I got by, don't you know that?," she whispers as she lets go of him so her hands trail down his arms. "God, Elliot. I got by but I still... just needed..." she rambles on as a chill slices through him from just her touch. "So you actually being here, I don't know how you're messing anything up... It never..."

He doesn't know where it comes from or why exactly why he does it, but he's tired of letting things boil inside of him, stay trapped inside of him, so he plunges forward and grasps the back of her neck, pressing his mouth against hers to quiet her.

Her body instantly tenses beneath his grasp but eventually loosens as moves his lips against hers. His mind is racing with thoughts of what they're doing again. Of what this all means. He's needed her too. He's needed her so much over the years that all in all, he realizes they are the perfect cliche.

This is Olivia. He kissed her last night. They kissed each other. It was simple then but right now, it's feels like so much more when he feels her fall back against the sofa, her hands simultaneously tugging at his shoulders.

This is Olivia. The woman who was off-limits for so long. This is Olivia the woman who was his partner. This is Olivia, the woman who had taken his heart along time ago and sealed it away with lock and key while he had been desperately searching all over hell and earth for it while still having her back as just her partner.

Now as he bends down over her, lips still tangled with hers, he knows that this was supposed to happen. They're two people in their forties who have found that person who they thought never existed. He can feel the truth of the matter in the way her fingers skim his neck and jaw and then the back of his head as he starts to trail his lips down her neck and down her throat.

He barely registers her soft voice as he skims his palms down her sides and over her hips. His lips skim her upper chest as her low, husky voice makes her skin reverberate against his mouth.

"I can't lose you anymore," she softly whimpers as his hands push her shirt up her abdomen.

Leaning down, his eyes catch hers before his lips latch onto her navel, licking and laving the delicate indentation in her skin. She cries out softly as his hand reaches under her shirt and delicately grasps her right breast in his hand.

She makes him feel out of control. In control. She makes him feel like he's out of his body, out of his mind and still makes him feel in desperate need for more.

She's freeing him and containing everything in him at the same time. She's all intoxicating smells, tastes and touches and as her hands trail down his back grasping at his shirt tucked inside his pants, he knows, he knows this has been what life had been made for.

His abdomen quivers at the thought and as the cool air of the apartment washes against his heated skin, he reaches down and pulls at her pants until he has her sprawled before him with only her shirt on which is hiked up beneath her breasts. He watches as she bites her lower lip while he tugs on his own pants.

Her chest heaves up and down, pupils dilated as she watches him move above her. He can see the relief in her eyes just as much as their reflection shows his.

They're moving fast but the whole process of getting here has been the longest fucking revolution through time and space he thinks any human being has ever gone through.

They've waited and now they've arrived.

He bends down and whispers in her ear as sensually as he can.

"All work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy."

As he leans back up to kiss her on the lips, he watches at her dark brown deepen and fill with desire.

"Fuck work," she whispers as he presses his body down onto hers and slowly grinds down capturing her answering whimper with his lips and mouth.

He pushes his arms beneath her back and instinctively her legs rise and latch around his hips as he nuzzles his face against her neck.

Slowly, he nudges her opening with his erection, not pushing the boundary quite yet and he can feel her patience with him just by the soft skimming of her nails down his neck and upper back, the lazy circles tingling his skin causing his eyes to droop low.

Quietly, he looks down and she's staring at him with lazy eyes and a dream like trance gracing her features as she mouths something and just as he's about to ask her what it is, he sees the syllables as plain as day.

_Elliot. El-liot._

He then places his forehead against hers and closes his eyes as her hands fall from his back to his waist. The warmth of her palms sends pleasure signals throughout his whole body causing him to react.

He slides home then. Her fingers leave traces of fire on his skin and he can't help but roll his hip backwards slowly and plunge forward with pure desire, gliding so effortlessly, sheathed inside her heat. He watches her head drop back, mouth agape and thinks he could die from the picture she paints below him.

She was designed for this, designed for him, he'd like to believe. She pulls so much out of him only making him want her to put even more back into him.

He wraps himself around her and whispers soft reassurances in her ear as he moves his lower body in a gentle cadence with hers. She meets him halfway each time, swaying with him, panting against his shoulder and running her palms over every inch of skin she can reach and that alone almost sends him over the edge.

He hears a breathy whimper escape from her lips as he digs his knees into the cushions and roll his hips forward and back, forward and back, again and again, causing the moist friction to drift through the air with each slap of their skin. "Never stop," she moans as her nails dig into the skin of his back.

The pleasure in her voice, the relief, triggers his need as well.

So he doesn't.

...

tbc


	13. Chapter 13

IWCT Chapter 13

"Elliot, what is that?"

He stands still as he glares down at the package in his hands. He hadn't realized what it was until he opened it and now that he does, he doesn't know what to do with the images burning through his mind like a raging forest fire.

To Elliot Stabler,

_She's a wild one. _

He rereads the chicken scratch scrawl once again and then glances over his shoulder at Olivia. Dressed in only his t-shirt from the night before, her face is still the epitome of hours of sex as her eyes catch hold of the yellow envelope in his hands.

"Who was he?" he asks in a voice devoid of any sympathy and he knows it's a jackass move to question her like this but he can't help the searing fire behind his lids.

As if the writing on the envelope wasn't enough, the words on the disc inside might as well be written as his cause of death because someone's going to pay.

"El?" Olivia's voice is unsure and he's winces at the worry in her voice. As he stands in her living room, face toward the blackened television screen, he knows one thing's for sure. "El, look at me. What's going on?"

He's going to kill the son of a bitch. Whoever he is.

"This," he grates out as he turns the television back on and the disc immediately starts playing. The time stamp at the bottom of the screen alerts them both that it's a recording.

When her eyes rake over the screen, she gasps.

Her faces whips toward his and Elliot slowly turns toward her.

"Who is this?" he asks again. His neck is slightly turned in her direction and the veins throb in his neck. "How along ago was this, Olivia?"

Her face turns to stone when she glances back at the television and sees the most humiliating thing she's ever experienced in her life.

On the screen, her naked back faces the camera, a white sheet wrapped around her waist as she engages in some rather intimate activities on screen.

She gulps when Elliot walks toward her, a clear plastic case in his hands and snarl on his face that means he's not playing around.

With her face flushed red, and humiliation running rampant in her veins, she grabs for the clear case and reads the writing.

_The Best Fuck I Ever Had._

Her bottom lips starts quivering and instantly, she sidesteps Elliot and hastily punches the off button to the television just as she's flipped over in the video and fucked into oblivion.

"Where'd you get this?" she rasps with anger lacing her words.

"I went to get my bag of clothes out of my car and when I walked outside this was sitting against the door. So, care to explain?"

"Elliot, you've gotta know I had no idea about this."

"I want to believe you. I do, Liv. But what I don't understand is why there's a video of you clearly fucking another man mere hours after you were in bed with me. I.. I can't get those images out of my head."

"I had no idea I was being filmed. Elliot this was way before last night. What we did last night isn't any reflection of this tape. We've been done for awhile, El. He's blackmailing me or something."

His head shoots up immediately. "What do you mean blackmailing? Who is this son of a bitch?"

"Why?"

"I want to know who I'm going to kill, Olivia. There's no telling where that's been and who's seen it."

Feeling the flush creep down her chest, Olivia angrily swipes at her mouth in frustration knowing that he's right. But she can't let Elliot's rage get out of hand or there'll be more problems than they're already faced with.

"He's angry with me. I broke it off and now he's pissed."

"So what Olivia! That doesn't excuse this. Now one more time, who is he?"

"Don't yell at me, Elliot," she rasps out as she glares at him.

Sighing in defeat, he walks past her toward the bedroom, brushing his shoulder against hers as he passes. He stops at the doorway to her room, his loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his bare chest a reminder of what is at stake.

"Maybe coming here last night was a mistake. I think you have some things you haven't worked out yet and I'll be damned if I sit and watch you pussy foot around with another man who clearly has problems."

"Elliot," she pleads as she follows him into the bedroom. "Goddammit!" she yells as he starts to put on the clean clothes he'd gotten from his car. "You know what, I can't believe this. I can't believe you!"

"Why? Because I'm upset that as soon as I finally... get to make love to you, I find out you're still freshly fucked from some fuck who video taped it? Come on, Liv! Don't play me the fool! I gave you the benefit of the doubt and now I'm looking like the dumb cocksucker who doesn't know when he's a rebound."

Her nostrils flare with hurt and outright rage. "Oh, yea, Elliot. How long have you been divorced now?" she asks accusingly.

"I poured my heart and soul out to you!"

She flinches from his shouting and it doesn't surprise her. She wants to blame him for everything but then again, she can't find a logical reason anymore.

He hadn't been anywhere near a rebound last night. The night they'd had was the first time she'd felt whole in forever. If anything, last night was what she had thought as their new beginning.

Today was supposed to be them figuring out what exactly they were to each other and what they were going to tell his family.

After the shit year she's had, he'd been exactly what she had wanted and needed last night and now he's throwing that all in her face over a video she had no idea even existed.

With that thought, the humiliation once again creeps up her spine and she wants to cry and scream all at once.

"You son of a bitch. You know that's not true. He means nothing to me and now he's trying to mess with what we have."

"He's this, he's that. Fuck Liv! Who the hell is he? You keep saying that he's out to get you but you won't even tell me his name."

"Because he's not important!"

"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to believe me," she whispers heartbroken. "I just made love to you all night and let you see all I have to give to you and now this." She shakes her head kicking herself along with harboring her anger for him.

He sighs loudly and rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes in frustration. He knows the significance of what happened between them last night and he knows it's no easy feat for Olivia to accept promises but she had.

He had let go with her beneath the cool sheets. They had both believed in the hushed whispers and promises they had uttered as they made love the night before.

"I'm sorry, Liv," he whispers. "I just need time to think this through. What are you going to do about the video?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid of what will happen if I try to confront him about it. I mean I'm a cop. I could lose my job over this," she hisses. "He knows I'm a cop and he had no qualms about leaving this here. I'm afraid of what that means."

Shaking his head, he walks slowly toward her and hesitantly touches her chin. Tipping it up slightly, he forces her eyes to lock on his own.

"I'm sorry. If it wasn't for me, this probably wouldn't be happening."

Pulling her face from his touch, she backs a step away and shakes her head. "Elliot, baby. Not everything is about you."

He puts this hands on his waist and looks down to the floor, the muscles in his jaws working overtime in response to her words. "I didn't say it was."

"But that's what you're implying."

"No," he shakes his head.

"Yes. Yes it is, Elliot. And you know what?"

When he doesn't answer, she grips the plastic case in her hands tightly and then shoves it against his chest. "I didn't ask for this and I sure as hell don't need you to hold my hand, Elliot. I made a mistake but guess what? I'm a big girl and I can fucking handle it," she grates out.

"I don't doubt that, Olivia." He can't shake the feeling that this asshole still has some kind of hold on her that far exceeds his original assumption of the two after that night in the hallway when he'd inadvertently heard them.

Maybe he's been a fool this whole time. He'd heard it all with his own ears and he still let himself fall into bed with her like he hadn't a lick of fucking sense.

He nods and squeezes the plastic case in his hand until it cracks under his fingers. Without another word, he walks past her, leaving his dirty clothes behind and grabs his keys and wallet off the bedside table.

As she stands inside the bedroom, the last thing she hears is the loud boom of the front door slamming behind him before she turns toward the bathroom to wash away his smell and the remnants of their night together.

He hasn't any doubts about her abilities to take care of herself but that's where her guilt lies. Where his belief in her gives her a small glimmer of hope, her lies quickly cover it up because she knows he's right.

Even after all this time, she knows that's he's aware that she's hiding something from him and it hits her square on as a sob escapes from within her chest.

As she rests her head on the shower wall, the guilt at knowing this almost becomes unbearable to take and she wishes that he were right there so she can tell him.

She hadn't taken care of herself. The scar on her temple and emotional rollercoaster she's been on the past few months proves that.

Now she can only hope she and Elliot hadn't moved too soon into this intimate relationship. If only she can explain that not only is he her rock, but he's the reason she even made it by at all and she had manipulated that trust in him last night by not telling him everything when he had.

Though she knows he would've been angered by what she's yet to say, him seeing that video made it ten times worse and the despair escapes her lips as she sinks to the floor of the shower stall, wondering where Elliot's at.

Eric, one. Elliot and Olivia, zero.

tbc.

**I have had so much trouble continuing stuff when I have an idea for what I want to happen. Not because writer block necesarily but because of everything else that happens. Right after I updated this story back in december, my laptop crashed and I luckily got it repaired under warranty but I lost all my pics/files/etc. Including my story notes for this, so now I'm basically going off memory. So, I apologize. Man, I want to finish this so badly so don't think I'm slagging on this. I'm planning for something big and then the conclusion. I know I said that before but it's for real this time. I'm shooting for about 18-20 chapters. So once again, sorry to the loyal followers of this and I promise to you that you shouldn't worry after this chapter. Thanks as always for reading. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

IWCT CHAPTER 14

"That'll be $15.78."

"Yea, ok," he grumbles at the cashier as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket. He fingers through several cards before he pulls one out and slides it across the counter to the young Hispanic man waiting indifferently behind it, his focus trained on the small television sitting next to the cigarette dispenser. "Uh, you got any Camels back there?"

The young man glances at his customer briefly before standing from his stool and sliding the lock over and dispensing a pack of cigarettes. "Now that'll be $22.48," he reads off.

"You know, with the economy the way it is, you'd think these fuckers would be cheaper yea?"

The young man, who's named tag reads "Omar" grunts a small "sure" before bagging the items on the counter.

Feeling indignant and a little annoyed by the reluctance of this damn cashier, the customer nods toward the small, purple cardboard box in the young man's hand as he puts it in the bag

"Eh, you gotta do what you gotta do, right man," he winks as he takes in the boy's confused expression. "Every man's gotta buy some protection. You know what they say," he grovels out before grinning as the box is dropped inside the bag along with the pack of cigarettes and a bottle of gin.

As he reaches for the bag, the young man's voice sifts through his foggy brain from behind the register as he swipes the card several times.

"I'm not sure "_what they say, Man,_" but your card was declined. Do you have another card?"

Straightening his back with an exasperated sigh, he rummages through his wallet once more before pulling out another credit card. "You know, I get the feeling you don't like me. And all I'm doing is buying some things for my little trip to visit my girlfriend. At least give a little courtesy here. Wouldn't you want some "ribbed for her pleasure" devices for your woman?" he asks cockily, pleasure in taunting the young man showing bright in his intoxicated eyes.

Huffing out a puff of air, the young man obviously annoyed with the current ongoing antics, snidely pushes the credit card back toward him.

"Not that it's any of your business, uh, Mr. Eric Morgan, but this credit card is maxed out. I can't take any more than two forms of credit, sir. I'm sorry but your sale has been voided, unless you have some cash."

"That's a shame, Jose," he drawls out. He knows he has no money on him and that thought alone pisses him off. He doesn't like the little prick's attitude either. "You're sure now?"

Omar nods and starts to close the register when he's stopped abruptly by something hard pressed against his temple. "Now, look sonny, I don't have any fucking cash on me. My girlfriend's waiting and I need these condoms so I can fuck the living shit out of her. And then we're going to drink some gin afterwards and I might smoke a cig."

The young man whimpers as the barrel of a small handgun presses against his temple. "Sir, please. Don't shoot, don't shoot," he whispers as he glances quickly at the security camera pointed directly at the register.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

Peering over his shoulder, he sees the black security device and aims the gun at it, blasting it into hundreds of tiny pieces in one shot. "Now, Omar, there's no one else here and that little camera is gone now. Can we call a truce now?"

Omar quickly nods, shoving the plastic bag over to the customer. "Please, just take it."

"Yea, not so cocky now are we kid? I guess we all have to learn sometime," he grins as he lowers the gun to the boys chest. "Now grab me some more of those cigars and another gin."

"Whatever, sir. Just please don't shoot," Omar pleads as he watches the customer from the corner of his eye as he gathers the wanted items. "Here, here. Take it."

Sighing triumphantly, Eric grabs the bag and swings it over his shoulder while he still grips the gun firmly in his other hand. As he reaches the sliding doors that lead outside, he hears the young man drop something on the floor and when he looks, Omar's standing frozen over a black cordless phone that's in pieces.

"Ah, Jose. Now look what you've gone and done."

Taking one step back into the store, he aims the gun at the stunned boy's face, eyes wide in terror as he shakes his no, and fires right into the man's forehead. He immediately slumps to the floor, a thick line of crimson blood seeps from the wound and pools on the floor next to him.

"Sorry, hombre. I've got shit to do and no time for pussy footin'," He whispers under his breath as he slips the gun inside his pants and walks outside into the crisp morning air.

. . .

Elliot stands outside the coffee shop only a few blocks from Olivia's apartment. He'd contemplated long moments whether or not he would go in, eventually opting to just stand there a few moments to cool off from his and Olivia's fight.

He knew he was a jackass and that she wasn't in the wrong. He knew for a fact that he'd overreacted but he can't say that he's ever seen a woman he's been intimately involved with ever having sex with another man. Not while they were together at least.

Other than Kathy, he realizes he's not the most sexually experienced person in the world. He'd dated a few women while he'd been separated for two years form his now ex wife. But he had only slept with one of them. Except now that's he's seen his own reaction toward the visual of Olivia with another man in bed, he knows those other women never had a chance and that's what makes him flinch.

It's only ever been Olivia. He had overreacted knowing that she's the only one he wants and that tape hadn't been from that long ago. While he knows Olivia would never use him like he wouldn't use her, he couldn't help his reaction. How does one react to something like that anyway?

It's not like everyday relationships deal with sex tapes, supposed rebounds and men who's only sexual partner in the last three years is his former work partner.

What he feels like is an ass.

Olivia is now at home probably packing up his shit he'd left behind and ready to trash it or toss it to the street. Or maybe she's planning this very moment a plane ride back to the west coast where she never has to see his overreacting ass ever again.

He winces as he rubs his temples with his thumb and forefinger, his eyes scrunching tightly closed as he tries to figure out what to do. After that fight, he hopes that he's wrong and that she's just contemplating what to do inside of her apartment like he is right now out on the sidewalk in front of their favorite coffee shop.

Slipping his hand inside of the pocket of his sweats, he grabs his wallet and walks inside and orders two coffees, one black and a crescent for her hoping she'll accept it as some sort of peace offering. Because for him, fighting with her after the amazing night they'd shared is the last thing he wants. After paying for his items, he walks back outside with a heavy heart and slight nag in his step.

He's already had to win her trust again after leaving the unit but now, now he's not sure if she'll forgive him so easily or at all. This can go over one or two ways. She'll let him in and they'll figure this out quickly or she'll shut down again and leave him on the outside waiting for that opportunity to prove to her that he isn't going anywhere.

But knowing Olivia for as long as he has, nothing has been easy between them and Olivia's far from a pushover, that's why he knows something is up with her story with this former boyfriend. While he does fully believe they're over, he can't help but think this guy wasn't ready for Olivia to end it as if the video left at her door wasn't proof enough.

That's what he holds onto as he walks back to her apartment, fully intending to take blame for their little blow up. He can't take losing her and even though he was upset earlier, the fact still remains the same. He was angry someone was trying to lay claim on the person he'd give his life for.

. . .

With her jogging pants on and her t-shirt pulled over her head, Olivia glances around her bathroom until she finds the hair tie she had been looking for. As she reaches for the elastic band, Elliot's jeans from the night before catch her eye as they lay in a heap on the outside of the bathroom door.

Sighing deeply, she pulls her hair back in a loose ponytail while her mind still focuses on her and Elliot. She can't believe what happened. It almost feels like a dream she had and the slamming of her apartment door was her waking up from the nightmarish quality it had contained.

But it had happened and after he'd left, she'd sat on the floor of the shower and cried. Luckily it was her day off and the thought made her want to cry again. Sitting in her apartment with the remnants of her night with Elliot lingering amongst every crevice would drive her crazy so she had decided to go for a run to blow off some steam.

She's still pissed at him and hurt, but she knows she wouldn't have known how to react either to something like that. Not only is she humiliated by the fact he had to watch it while she was asleep, still satiated from his lovemaking, but also because he had been awake and wondering if he had made a monumental mistake by sleeping with her, not knowing what that tape meant.

All she knows is that sleeping with him had been far from a mistake, even after he had accused her of whatever the hell he had. It's apparent now that he hadn't meant the angered words toward her but toward the other man in the video. It had all still hurt like hell though.

Everything is so fucked up, she thinks as she grimaces at her reflection in the mirror.

It's not the dark purple bites on her neck or the soreness in her arms and legs so much that makes her grimace, its the fact she let herself get so out of control when he left. She knows now more than ever that Eric took advantage of her emotional state and ever since, her life's been turned inside out. During this time, all she has done is blame Elliot.

He's had his own problems since the shooting at the precinct and she's used them to her advantage. All she knows is that if Elliot doesn't come back today she will lose her mind. If he's not back before she gets home from her run, she'll know she's single-handedly ruined the best thing that's ever happened to her. And that's him.

No one's ever known her inside and out like he does and vice versa. No one fills the gaps in her soul like he does, no one has been on the edge of the precipice and understood the fine edged sword of emotional instability like he does. Neither had the best childhood and neither had ever judged each other for it. He's the fuel that ignites her fire and she feels him before she sees him and that's something she'll never have again and that's why she can't let this fester any longer.

Before she has a chance to think twice, her mind's made up. Fuck jogging. She's going to go look for him. He had been mad but she knows this time that letting him go will be the worse possible choice ever.

Shutting the bathroom light off, she hurries across her bedroom and grabs her credentials out of her bedside drawer, also noting her service weapon and badge off to the side and slips it closed again.

Just before she exits her bedroom, she hears the faintest of noises outside her front door and that makes her stop in her tracks.

Immediately her heart starts to drum in anticipation because he's already come back and she can't explain the relief she finds in that. As she stumbles out of her bedroom, she hears the locks click and before the knob wiggles, she flies to the door, swinging it open, wanting to yank him inside and never let him leave again.

"God, El, I don't want to fight you," she grates out hoarsely as the door stands wide open and the body in front of hers leans against the door frame.

"Aw, baby. I don't want to fight either. But that's okay, we have lots of time to make up."

Her head snaps up at the unfamiliar voice and immediately her body tenses as the man in front of her chuckles. She senses something off instantly and steps back a few inches. Almost reflexively, she turns her back toward her bedroom door sensing something extremely dangerous in the man's demeanor.

"What, Olivia, you not going to invite me in? I thought we were going to catch up? Or you already changing your mind on me?"

Reaching the kitchen island, she swallows hard and tries to act confident but with her Sig in the nightstand drawer and her emotions all over the place, she's not entirely confident in her "fighting off an assailant" skills at the moment if it should come to that.

"What," she swallows, "what are you doing here? Sending that fucking video wasn't enough for you, was it? You're a piece of work, Eric. Where's this coming from?"

"Oh, Olivia, you know that's not what it was. That 'fucking' video was us making love."

"Go to hell," she grates out as he smirks and pushes himself inside. Realizing too late she should have slammed the door on him, her only option becomes clear as she watches his eyes darken as he glances at her then at the plastic bag in his hand.

She needs to get to her gun. Elliot is out there somewhere and she needs to get a handle on this situation before she loses him completely and by looking at the glimmer in Eric's eyes, it isn't going to be easy.

Eric laughs softly and eases his way into her apartment and closes the door, locking the main locks while never losing eye contact with her. "I realize that that might've not been the best option and all, sending you the proof of our love with your new boyfriend around and all, but I thought it would save him the trouble so he could see for himself the whore you are before he got too far in, ya know? I mean, he probably doesn't want anything to do with your ass now. Spreading your legs for whoever comes along in a desperate plea to cure your loneliness," he mocks.

"Go. To. HELL," she grates out again more harshly as she moves toward her bedroom again, her steps slow and calculated as she tries to read him.

He laughs and sits his bag down before crossing the room slowly to stand where she had been at the island.

"Oh, I've already been actually. It's nice. You don't have to keep telling me that, Liv. It doesn't take a lot of sense to know that. Or did you lose your common sense?"

She just stares at him, nostrils flaring as she takes another slowly calculated step backwards toward her room. When she doesn't answer, he continues in his condescending voice. "I guess it's true huh? He fuck the sense right outta ya? Is that it?"

"Eric, I know what you're trying to do, but it's not working."

"Oh? What am I trying to do? Looks like it's working to me."

"You need to leave. Now."

"Something tells me that's not what you really want," he says confidently as he takes a half step in her direction.

"I said leave," she deadpans as she makes eye contact with him, trying to avoid looking as vulnerable as she feels in this moment.

"I..." he drawls out contemplatively. "I, I don't think so," he shakes his head impishly, a wide smile wavering across his lips as if she hadn't just told him he wasn't welcome at all.

The way he just played off her warning void of any emotion sends a chill down Olivia's spine as she takes another half step back, her eyes never leaving his face. "I'm telling you, " she half whispers. "You don't leave on your own, someone will take you out of here with or without your compliance."

"But you don't want me to leave. I can see it in your eyes, baby," he offers sweetly again and it makes her want to dry heave at the condescending tone in his voice. She swallows thickly when he continues, "See whores like you don't let a free lay just pass them by. That's why I'm not going to disappoint. So why don't you stop trying to ease your way into your little bedroom where all the magic goes down and come here. Why start the party so soon?"

She's passed the point of worry now. She can't believe what is happening once again. He's obviously out of his mind because this isn't the same man she had been seeing only a few months ago. She had, however, sensed the danger in his demeanor the second he'd drunkenly walked through her door the night he assaulted her and it's the same feeling she gets now.

How she could have misjudged someone so much she doesn't know and she hates herself for it. She's been a goddamn detective, sex crimes detective, for nearly fifteen years and she hadn't even seen the monster inside of someone she'd slept with too many times.

She feels like vomiting as he takes another step towards her. "My," she swallows thickly, the saliva starting to choke her. "Elliot will be back," she breathes out heavily as she matches his steps, taking another back until she feels the wall outside her room hit her shoulder blades. "You need to go. I don't want any drama, Eric."

Only about ten feet still separates her from her bedroom and if she can get there before he does, she's sure she can lock him out and get to her gun and end this charade. But he's still matching her step for step as they do a lazy dance across her apartment, his tall frame looming over hers even at a few feet away.

"Shut the fuck up, Olivia. I don't care about,_ Elliot_. He's not coming back. I saw him on my way up. He was catching a cab and heading toward Queens, to his wife and kids. He's long gone. It's just you and me baby."

Her breathing escalates as his words sink in. "How do you know?"

"I heard him. I walked right past him as I got out the cab. He seemed upset. You and he get into a fight? He not get enough pussy for the money?"

She visibly flinches at his insult and against her will, her bottom lip starts to quiver. She doesn't believe for one second that Elliot is anywhere near or has been near Queens in the last 25-30 minutes since he left. He'd left his dirty clothes from the night before here and his cell phone and car keys still sit on her nightstand. He'd only grabbed his wallet.

That's one thing she'll keep to herself. If she knows that Elliot still has a reason to come back here, it's one thing she has in her advantage. He's gotta be coming back and hopefully soon even if he is upset with her still.

Great, if she were anyone else, she probably would've given up then and there and let Eric have the upper hand. The emotional toll from her fight with Elliot and the way Eric is treating her now would send anyone else over the edge instantaneously.

But she won't go there. She won't. She has too much too live for now even if it's hanging in the balance at the moment.

A lump forms in her throat when she locks eyes with Eric once more. "Look, we've both had bad mornings obviously. Lets stop this now," she pleads, her hands positioned in front of her, her trademark negotiation skills blooming through her tired facade.

"I don't think we've even started though," he shakes his head indignantly. "Olivia, I won't fall for your "detective mode,"" he taunts, using his fingers as quotation marks. "This is between you and me. Leave that cop bullshit out of it."

Taking a deep breath, she tries again as she lowers her hands slightly. "Eric, come on," she says sweetly. "Come on, lets sit down and talk this through, okay?" she asks as she nods toward the plush sofa to her right.

She watches him take a look at the couch and then focus his attention to the spot right in front of it. The stain.

Her heart pounds as she realizes what he's thinking. "Yea," he nods. "Yea, lets talk about it," he agrees as he open his arm and offers her to go ahead of him.

She shakes her head slightly and he smiles. "Yea, that's what I thought. Blood runs thicker than water, Olivia. I don't know about you, but I've never been able to get blood out of anything white, especially clothing."

She heaves out a breath of air and when she does, she hears something that gives her the tiniest sliver of hope.

The knob to her front door jiggles the slightest bit and suddenly a new found hope courses through her veins. She prays that it's Elliot, that he's come back so he can help her end the scene unfolding, not that she couldn't do it herself but the look in Eric's eyes prove to her that this time may be different.

Before she can think twice, her feet are propelling her forward. Her eyes grow wide and she tries to make it there before Eric notices but he's too quick even in his state.

"HE-!" she starts to yell but her word is cut off when Eric grasps her from behind and locks his left arm around her waist, trapping one of her flailing arms while his other hand clamps over her mouth, hard. She struggles against him, elbowing him hard in his side twice but he still manages to keep his tight hold around her body and mouth.

He breathes hard in her ear as he pushes her face forward into the wall simultaneously trapping her free arm in between the wall and her body. "Don't say another fucking word," he demands as he gasps harshly behind her. "That fucking hurt too you bitch," he rasps as he pushes his solid 6'4" frame against her back and breathes deeply for a few moments.

When his grips loosens on her one hand so he can go to grip both at the same time, an idea springs forth in her mind.

She feels his hand slip from her contained one while he searches for a way to subdue her more effectively, and that's when she elbows him again, this time to the face as fast and hard as she can. She hits her target and he stumbles back a few inches. "AHH. Big mistake you whore."

She uses all of her body weight to push against his chest, effectively launching him toward the floor. Quickly, she starts to stumble in the direction of the front door and in the few seconds it's taken her to get away from his hold, she notices that the jiggling has ultimately stopped and she doesn't know if she wants to laugh or cry.

If it had been Elliot, he would have burst through already no doubt.

She pushes herself forward and starts toward the front door, but before she gets far, Eric's thick fingers wrap around her left ankle and she goes straight down, her chest hitting the floor with a deafening thump. It knocks the wind out of her and she's trying to find a way to breathe when she feels him crawl up and straddle her back .

"You had to go and make this difficult didn't you?" he asks as he grips both her arms roughly and starts to tie his now empty bag around her wrists.

She gasps for air as the pressure of his weight becomes too much. Her back is in pain and her head throbs from the impact as he ties her hands tighter and tighter behind her back. Feeling the shock of having the wind knocked out of her fade, she begins to flail again, taking a deep breath and screaming with everything left in her. "HELP! HELP!" she screeches as loud as she can, the air scratching her throat as she gasps around the stuffy air of her apartment, feeling as if isolated in a deserted town without help for miles.

tbc.

**Please drop me a word.**


	15. Chapter 15

**I got a review asking why I make Olivia's life miserable and it just hit me a certain way and I'm not sure why. Well for one, that has been the theme throughout this entire fic because it's post Smoked if anyone hasn't caught on to that. And secondly, Olivia's life has never been fairy-tales and rainbows. I just hope all you awesome readers don't think I'm making her life miserable. I mean it's only fanfiction and I have every intention of ending this way I'm sure readers would appreciate (including myself if I were reading this). Anyways, thank you all for the amazing reviews. I would love to go back and thank you all individually but this will have to suffice for now.** :)

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><p>IWCT Chapter 15<p>

Her cries for help become muffled as Eric wraps his strong hand around her mouth once more and jerks her lithe body up off the floor with his other.

"SHUT up!" he grates into her ear. "You're going to shut up and do what I say. You're in no position to be fucking around, Olivia. Cry help one more time and this piece I have in my back pocket? It'll be pointed square at your head!"

He pulls her toward her bedroom and immediately her senses go on alert.

_NO. NO. NO. NO._

He's not going to do it, he can't be, she panics. As he pushes her inside the room, she stumbles a second before she gets her bearings back.

She is tempted to scream again but it sinks in at that moment that he just mentioned having a gun on him and she doesn't put it past him. But before she gets a sound out, he lifts his finger and sneers at her heaving form.

"Don't do it. Don't talk or yell or even whimper another fucking word."

Breathing heavily, she watches as he walks toward her and lifts a strand of hair behind her ear. She flinches and becomes acutely aware of her arms falling asleep behind her.

Her chest feels like it's on fire and the throb starting to pulsate in her head from the impact she'd made with the floor is making it impossible for her to focus.

She doesn't register his lingering fingers on her cheek when her eyes slip closed as she stands in the middle of her bedroom.

"That's a girl," he whispers into the dimly lit room. "Now, get on the bed and wait for me, okay? Or do I need to put something over your mouth to keep you from screaming?"

She swallows hard at the mention of keeping her from screaming and she tries to think of a way to give him a reason to think she won't but her thoughts are interrupted when his voice is hot in her ear again.

"Wait, I don't know. I don't trust you. To the bed," he orders again. When her confused expression registers across her face, he pushes her toward the bed until the back of her knees touch the mattress. "Sit," he demands.

"Eric, please," she rasps. "What do you want? What are you doing?"

"Don't play stupid. Olivia. What does it look like? I mean, you can't be that dumb. Look at the bed," he offers as he nods toward the unmade bed, the sheets haphazardly thrown about from the previous night and morning. After she glances behind her, she turns back toward him and a dark look floats across his face. "Yea," he whispers.

"Please, don't do this. Please, Eric."

"I said shut up," he says calmly, and his tone comes off as eerie to her. His breathing is relatively calm and her breathing is all over the place as he kneels in front of her, grabbing something from off the corner of the mattress as he does so. She only catches a glimpse of it before he wads it in a ball and holds it inside his fist resting on top of his knee. "Now, I'm going to go and wait out there because," he stops and lets out a small laugh,"you were right."

His small smiles confuses her even more as she tries to mull over what he's talking about. "What do you mean?" she prods trying for anything to distract him so she can find some sense of control, even as impossible as that may seem.

"Your loverboy is coming back. I could tell. Even though he was pissed. I would really like to know went down baby, seems like it was a good show. So much so that I would love for you to do a little encore when he comes back. Wouldn't that be something?" he asks as he rubs his palm up the expanse of her thigh.

Shaking her head, she tries to think and it's not working and panic has settled in for permanent residency in her throbbing brain. "Please. Please don't this. You don't have to do this."

"I don't have to do this? You mean you're going to willingly put on a show?"

"What?" she stammers, shifting on the bed to try and alleviate the pain in her back and shoulders. "You're out of your mind," she gulps. "You're out of your mind and you're not getting out of here either way. You might as well stop this now!" she yells, the thought of screaming taunting her for only a brief second before Eric speaks again and this time he's not playing.

"Yea, that's what I thought. In you go," he taunts as he grips the back of her head and shoves the wad of cloth into her mouth. Immediately her muffled voice sounds into the room and before she registers what he's doing, her body is being forced onto the bed and his knee is pressed firmly into her abdomen.

"Now be a nice little girl and sit tight while I go take care of some business."

He leaves the room and her muffled whimpers never stop and she knows that she ought to calm down so she'll be able to breathe but she's passed that stage. She tries to wriggle herself up into a sitting position but it's almost impossible with the way her hands are tied behind her back. Instead, she uses her free legs to pull herself to the edge of the bed.

Using her right leg, she slowly begins to drag herself to the edge, feeling the spring jut into her ass as she scoots her body further off the mattress. But as soon as one leg hits the floor, Eric clears his throat from the doorway, freezing her movement. When she looks up, her chest constricts.

In his hands, he holds gray masking tape from one of her kitchen drawers and what appears to be the items that had been in the bag before he'd empty them out to tie her hands. When he steps closer to her, her nostrils flare, struggling for oxygen when she sees what he's really holding.

The bottle of gin catches her eyes first as a gleam of light reflects off the surface of the bottle from the faintest trace of sunlight peering in through her bedroom drapes. But that's not what makes her heart skip a beat. In the crook of his arm, are a pack of cigarettes and a small box that can only mean one thing.

Her mouth quivers at the thought of him raping her. He's out of his mind obviously, and she doesn't put it past him to at least make a point even if he doesn't actually do it. Her nostrils flare once more and a bead of sweat rolls down her temple as he approaches the bed.

"See, I knew I'd have to do this. Now get your ass on that bed. I can't be having you running around when I've got someone to meet at the door. It's about time wouldn't you say?" he snarls as he drops the items on her nightstand and pushes her back onto the bed, his weight almost suffocating as she screams from behind her own wadded up panties.

tbc.

**This story is rated M for a reason. The next several chapters will not be for the faint of heart. But I am a happy ending person, so there's a bone. ;)  
><strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm super apologetic for the wait. I'm trying to get this moving along and I hope it's satisfying. If that's possible. Thanks for hanging in there, enjoy and please let me know what you think.**

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><p>chapter 16<p>

"Are you here about the noise?"

As soon as he turns the corner, the old woman with a cane appears in front of him. His heart skips a beat as soon as her old, shaky voice reverberates down the hall and into his ears.

He'd just made it back to Olivia's building when he figured out what he was going to say to her. He'd been an ass and he plans on doing whatever it'll take to make this better, but first he's got to

figure out what this old lady is talking about.

"Uh, what noise Mrs.?"

"Mrs. Clarkson," the beady eyed old woman retorts coldly. "You "are" here for the call I made right? I thought I saw you were a cop?"

Immediately the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. What is this old woman talking about? Surely she must've been hearing things but the more the thinks about it, the more his pulse quickens when he thinks back to the envelope sitting outside the door earlier and he's not sure why that's the first connection he makes.

"That's right. I'm a ...was a detective with the NYPD. What noise are you talking about?"

Without a word, she nods her head toward Olivia's apartment door and Elliot quickly glances toward it and then back at the old woman. A forlorn look crosses her features as she wobbles on her cane back toward her own apartment.

"Wait, Mrs.? Where are yo-"

The old lady violently shakes her head and scraggly gray strands of hair fall down her face. "No, you're here. I don't want no part of it." With that, she closes her door and from his place in the hallway, he can hear her secure her locks on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, he swallows hard and takes slow, shallow steps toward Olivia's now quiet apartment. So many thoughts are flowing through his head and he knows in his heart something isn't right. He wants to believe the old woman is confusing Olivia's apartment with someone else's since there's nothing going on now but he's not that naive, especially after doing his job as long as he had.

He's unarmed and for a split second he thinks of going back out to his car to get his personal weapon out of the glove box, but with the eerie vibe he'd gotten from the old lady and the deafening calm from the other side of the door, he knows he doesn't have that kind of time.

But then again, it could be nothing his rare optimistic side chimes in.

He lifts his sweaty palm and knocks gently the first time. After rapping his knuckles against the wood, he hears nothing on the other side. Pressing his ear against the wood, he jiggles the knob before pushing it open.

Unlocked.

His immediate intake of breath is cut off when he eases his tense body through the door. He's trying not to think of the worst case scenario here but his senses are on alert anyways as he pushes into her darkened apartment that had been lit up only an hour or so ago when they'd been arguing. He wonders where she is because now the blinds are closed and the drapes are pulled over the windows.

Stepping on a loose floorboard, he flinches when its squeak resounds throughout the entire apartment. Surely she heard it if she's home. The only logical thing is to call out to her so he doesn't scare her.

"Liv?"

Nothing.

"Olivia, are you here? We need to talk," he tries to placate as he tries to calm his own nerves. He takes another step into her foyer and closes the door behind him, realizing she must've never locked it after he left in a flurry. So she must be home he surmises. She's probably still pissed as hell at him and rightfully so.

He turns the deadbolt and as the lock clicks into place, the floor board moans behind him, this time from a heavy foot that is not his own.

His back straightens as a deep voice resonates into his ear. "Welcome back, Detective Stabler."

Elliot immediately starts to spin his body around ready to fight off whoever it is as futile as it may seem with no weapon. But before he can make a full turn, a heavy weight is pressing him into the door and something metallic is pressing into the base of his skull.

"You're just in time, man. But can't be having you leave so soon. The party's just getting started."

Elliot's lungs feel like they're on fire from the pressure of his chest pressed against the wooden door and his back aches from the angle he's being forced to stand as he leans against the wood with the intruder's weight pressed into him.

"Whoareyou?" He mumbles against the door.. "Don'thurther. I'llkillyou," he gasps as the other man pushes the barrel harder against the back of his skull. Elliot's mind spins. Where's Olivia? Surely she would've been able to fight whoever this is. Surely she's not here. There's no way this person is going to out trick two seasoned detectives.

But his heart drops as the man's deep voice sounds again.

"Oh no worries. Like I said, you're just in time. Now you're not going to move or I'll blow your fucking head off, hear me?" Elliot gulps at his admission and tries to adjust his stance to get a better advantage. But instead he feels the barrel of the gun move from his head to his temple. "I didn't hear you," the man growls in his ear.

Elliot nods silently, sweat starting to trickle down his neck. "Please," he gasps. "Please, just.. lets talk about this. I don't know what you want, but don't hurt her. Let her go," he grates out.

"And who might that be? Oh, Olivia? Oh, well that'd be no fun. She's waiting on us."

With his back aching and arms useless at his sides he tries to voice his reason. "Like I said... I don't want anyone to get hurt. Lets talk about this. I'm sure we could works something out."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Elliot man, you're in no place to be negotiating right now. Now I'm done pussy footing with you. I'm ready to get this show on the road. Now either you walk willingly into that bedroom and do what I say, or I'll put you in there myself. Capiche?"

Instantly, a ball of dread forms in the pit of Elliot's stomach at what this guy's plan consists of and he wants no part of it. But he can't leave her in there. What if she's hurt? She isn't making any sound but then again this sick fuck could have taped her mouth or knocked her out.

All of a sudden he doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to see her hurt. He tenses once again and shuffles his feet to get a better footing. His head fills with regret because of words unspoken and red hot anger fuels behind his eyes at what this bastard is doing.

"What'd you do to her?" he grumbles against the door again.

Before he finishes his sentence, his head is being jerked back by his shirt collar and a hot breath is on his ear. "Wrong answer."

Instantly, Elliot feels his feet being kicked from beneath him and the air being knocked out of him as he lands harshly on his back. He tries as fast as he can to roll over and put his cop skills into motion but he's rusty from not being on the job for so long and an iron clad boot presses into his chest.

His vision starts to blur from the impact of his head hitting the floor as he watches a tall man, with dark hair and a light Goa tee looming above him. He's got a wicked grin on his face and the gun pointed straight at his chest.

His voice sounds like it's at the end of at tunnel as Elliot's vision starts to go black, "You don't know who you're messing with brother. You'll learn to listen soon enough. After your nice little nap, it's go time."

. . .

"Hey cap?"

"Yes, Detective?"

"You know when you asked me to look up a name you'd been curious about a few weeks ago in relation to the laptop kiddy porn case?"

"Yea, I do. What are you getting at Amaro?"

"Yea," the younger man nods, scratching the back of his short cropped hair. "Well, I just checked back with his name in the data system and no hits. But I did a little work on my down time and I checked by some bars he could've used this credit card number and guess what?"

"You get a match?" the older man questions.

"Mhm, and not only that, I found something out, cap."

Cragen shifts on his feet and his brows furrow as he leans against his desk. "Well?"

"Well his name isn't Eric Phillips like we had originally thought. Of course his friend Lenny wasn't ratting on anyone at first but now that he's facing serious time, he's claiming his friend Eric is the real owner. So, out of nowhere Lenny mentions this bar and how it was the last place he'd seen Eric. So, I went by and asked for the credit card receipts and we found one Eric Morgan in the bills If Lenny isn't lying about the last time he saw him, I'm banking on it being him."

Nodding, Cragen sits tentatively in his chair, knowing instinctively that his new detective had something else on his mind. "Well go check him out. I'm assuming you got some valuable info off his actual records this time? Lenny claims this guy is the owner of this laptop?"

"Uh yea, but one more thing. He's got a rap sheet a mile long with domestic abuse allegations and one attempted murder. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's definitely good for this. The only reason he's been overlooked is because he's been going by the alias Eric Phillips the past five years. And when I asked the bartender if he saw anything out of the ordinary, he said no. Said he was as nice as ever. Even picked up a tab for a nice lady detective. And when I checked the date of when he'd done that, it was almost six months ago."

"Lady detective?"

Nodding his head, Amaro glances out to Olivia's empty desk and then back at his captain. "This Eric fellow frequents this bar a lot and the bartender described Olivia almost to a "T" when I asked him to describe her out of curiosity. Don't ask me why. She's been a little off lately."

Don places both hands on his desk and stares down at the top of it knowingly and doesn't elaborate on Nick's observation of his seasoned partner. "Call John in here. This isn't possible," he mumbles to himself. When John approaches, Cragen motions for him to close the door. "John, I need you to go with Amaro and check something out. You remember when Olivia came in here with that goose egg on her head?"

"Oh yea, she hit her head at home. Why what about it? She okay?"

Shaking his head, his worried eyes stare at his detective as he motions toward the Nick. "I don't know John. But something didn't feel right then and it still doesn't. Amaro, fill him in on your discovery on your way to Eric "Morgan's" apartment. I'm going to check in with Olivia. And oh guys? This is off the record," he says as he picks the phone off the receiver.

Munch raises his brows from behind his dark glasses with confusion written all over his face as he and Amaro head off toward their potential suspect's location.

Sitting back in his chair, Don realizes just how shot his nerves have become over the course of the years he's known his former two lead detectives. They've always gone against protocol to go that extra mile for justice in the past so it doesn't surprise him anymore. But since Stabler's departure, something's been off and it's no surprise that Olivia's lost her grip on things a time or two.

But he never thought she would be on this end ever. They've been looking to close this case for weeks now and in the pit of his stomach, he knows that there's something much different going on this time around after hearing Amaro's discovery. He doesn't want to believe it, but he knows in the dark recesses of his mind that she's been seeing the true culprit. This Lenny guy is only the tip of the iceberg.

One of their own has been harboring an enormous secret and he's not sure why.

tbc.


	17. Chapter 17

**IWCT Chapter 17 **

Burnt orange and gold beams of sunlight pour in through the window of her bedroom when she finally, timidly, opens her eyes. As the sun dips behind the clouds and horizon, a meloncholy glow transcends the air around her.

Her body aches and it reminds her of the night she and Elliot had had and it ignites something inside of her. Something raw, pure.

Closing her eyes once more, she arches her back and smiles internally as her muscles scream in a good way. Taking a deep breath, she decides to reach for her robe on the ground where she remembers Elliot tossing it the night before.

In their haste to finally make it to the bedroom, he'd shedded her other clothes long before she'd reached for her robe sometime during the night, but they'd been on a roll making love multiple times that they'd eventually tossed everything, including the bedding, onto the floor.

Which reminds her. Her eyes pop open when she feels the faintest sensation of cool air gliding against her bare skin. Feeling suddenly exposed despite the activities of the night before, she decides to get dressed.

When she tries to move her arms to do just that, she's hit with a realization that something isn't right as she falls onto her back immobile. Swallowing thickly, she glances to her left and sees her wrist tied to one side of the headboard with what looks like thick shoelaces.

Almost in an instant, everything comes flooding back to her and the vivid memories of her and Elliot's night together are steam rolled by everything that's happened since.

She remembers struggling with Eric and then the noise at the front door. But then she remembers him using his size and weight to this advantage and finally getting her to the floor.

She'd tried to scream but he'd finally gotten her to her bedroom and slipped her own panties, doused with chloroform she guesses, over her mouth and as soon as she'd thought to fight him more or scream, black dots had started to cloud her vision and then everything went black.

All she remembers doing at that moment before unconsciousness was wondering how Elliot would find her when he came back, because in the deepest parts of her heart and mind, she knew he would and that thought gives her a sliver of hope in her current predicament.

Now she's tied to her bed and what's happened since she has no idea. Her heart races with worry as she turns her head back down to her body and from what she can see, she still has her clothes on for the most part... except for her shirt.

Eric must've stripped it off when he'd finally gotten her subdued and unconscious. She shivers as another light breeze wafts across her bare stomach.

Her chest rises and falls with each desperate breath as she tries to figure out what to do. She still has her sports bra on and she's never been one to overlook small favors. As far as she can tell, she hasn't been violated and she releases a breath of relief while trying to gulp back tears of frustration at the same time.

No, she won't cry. This isn't the time and you're a cop, she beats into her head. Just because he left, doesn't meant shit.

Just as she closes her eyes, she lets her head drop back to the mattress just as something catches her attention from the corner of the room.

Snapping her eyes back open, she notices something sitting on a pedestal and angled diagonally from her position on the bed. Looking closer, she realizes it is a black camcorder with a small red light blinking slowly.

Her breath hitches when she realizes that the tiny side view finder is open and that must mean one thing.

She's being recorded.

With her senses immediately heightened, she quickly and nervously glances around the room to see if he's anywhere around.

As her eyes scan back and forth, her hands struggle against the restraints around her wrists at the same time. The thick laces are tied so tight that each time she moves her hands she feels the skin tear just a little bit more than the last time.

Her mind races and she chastizes herself for not knowing what to do let alone for letting herself get into this position in the first place.

_"Figure something out. You're Olivia Benson for fucksake. Get out of this! You've been playing the victim too much lately. You are stronger than this. YOU are a COP!" _she screams at herself internally.

Gripping the headboard where the strings are tied multiple times around, she angrily jerks on them over and over until she can feel the head board moving from the wall. She pants with the effort and curses loudly when she feels a slicing pain shoot through her arms. "Fuck," she whimpers as she jerks on the board a few more times.

After long moments, she realizes her effort is useless as she looks up and sees a trickle of blood run down her forearm; her aching limbs no match for the heavy chorded boot laces holding her in place.

Plus, she imagines the noise from her headboard pounding on the wall resembles that of two people fucking so she decides against screaming in this moment for fear of being confused with moans and her throat feels like it's on fire anyways from earlier.

Grating her teeth, she gulps heavily before looking around the room again, realizing that her feet are tied as well but with what looks like the string from her window blinds.

She cringes inwardly, realizing that it will hurt ten times worse if she tries to move her legs. Moving her head to the right, she spots her nightstand and an idea immediately springs forth. Sliding her body as far as the restraints allow her to, she tries to reach the nail file laying inconspicuously behind the small table lamp on her night stand.

At this point, any idea will do and she can't spare a second when she has no idea where Eric is. So she pulls as hard as she can against the strings, reaching her slim fingers toward the object but all she gets from the effort is another loud thump from the headboard hitting the wall again when her arms gives out.

After another failed attempt to reach it, her heart stops all together when she hears a faint groan from somewhere close. Her breath hitches as she lays completely still and listens for the sound again. She can't think straight, her heart is pounding and she's so scared and clueless as to where Eric is right now that she almost assumes she's dreaming this all up.

The thought of having to face off with him while restrained to her own bed makes her stomach flip flop in a painful way.

Swallowing harshly, she holds her breath and quietly strains her hand against the laces as she reaches for the file once more, having hope that it'll help in someway. If not to saw the painfully thin strings away, but maybe to use as a weapon.

Before she gets her hand any closer though, she hears it again.

"Ooooh," a deep groan sounds again and she thinks it's coming from behind the closed bathroom door. Her heartbeat escalates as she tries to figure out what it is or who it is. "Agh, help," comes the all to familiar voice and it makes her nerves stand on end.

"Hello," she whispers hoarsely, realizing just how scratchy her voice sounds ontop of how it actually feels from trying to scream earlier. The cloth full of chemicals being shoved against her mouth hadn't helped either.

Before she can utter another word, the voice sounds again more clearly and it's then she realizes it's closer than she had first realized.

"Wha-, Liv? Olivia?" the haggard voice questions frantically from somewhere below her.

The sound of her full name coming from his lips sends a jolt of hope into her being as she tries to crane her neck to see where he is. As she tries to compose herself, her voice betrays her.

"Elliot?" she responds, her voice cracking under the weight of the situation. "Elliot, what's going on?"

He groans again and she can hear him panting from wherever he is. "I don't know, Liv. But it's going to be alright. You have to believe it, okay?"

Not knowing what to say, she silently nods her head and closes her eyes. "El, where are you?"

"Right here," he moans as he struggles to sit upwards.

His hands are tied tightly behind his back and his head is a little foggy but he's coherent enough to realize they're in deep shit.

Swallowing thickly, he moves his shoulders the slightest bit and a shooting pain sears through his shoulders and back. "Aw fuck. Liv, I'm right here," he says as he finally gets off of his side and onto his ass. He lets his back fall against the wall beside her bed before she turns her head in his direction. "I was on the floor."

"Elliot, oh god. Are you hurt?"

"Don't worry about me. What about you? What'd that motherfucker do to you?"

Sniffling, Olivia turns her head toward the ceiling before answering and a pang a dread settles itself in the deepest parts of his soul. _Please no. No._

Shaking her head, her voice is low when she answers. "Nothing that I normally couldn't handle," she says solemnly.

"Who is this bastard? And where is he?"

Pursing her lips, she silently turns her head towards his form sprawled out against the wall. Her voice comes out as a whisper and it sends a chill down his spine.

"I wish I knew."

The double meaning not lost on either one of them.

.

.

.

"Think we should yell?" he asks after several minutes of quiet contemplation, thinking it pathetic two seasoned cops, or former cops, have to resort to screaming to be possibly spared from being held captive any longer and God knows what else, he imagines.

"I don't think it'll do any good. The neighbors next door moved out several weeks ago and the old lady a few doors down is hard of hearing. Plus, most people on this floor know I'm a cop, so..."

"Mrs. Clarkson?" he interrupts.

Her head turns toward his slumped form on her right side just as the last of the sunlight dissipates from the room, causing a faint orange glow to dance across the top of his head. "Yea," she whispers. "How do you know?"

He laughs indignantly before adjusting his posture against the wall as best as he can with his hands behind him, realizing too late that maybe he should've gotten his gun after all, while he still had his feet and hands available he realizes as he glances down at his feet bound together with several layers of gray masking tape. Fuck.

But he doesn't tell her what the old lady said though or what he had been thinking prior to entering her aparment... unarmed.

"I saw her earlier," he deadpans. "Nice lady."

Olivia stares at him long moments trying to gauge his emotions but when he turns his head to the side to glance out the window, she realizes he's done. "I'm going to guess you have no ideas on what to do."

"I wish I did," he admits sadly. "My gun's in my car and my phone is still in here somewhere. I was hoping you had something."

"No. I called off work for a few days so I don't think anyone will be looking for me. But if there's a time to be interrupted on my vacation, it'd be now," she whispers hoarsely.

"Yea," he agrees. "But you know, we'll figure something out Liv. We can do this. I won't give up until we're both out of here," he offers sincerely. She just nods but keeps her focus on the ceiling.

A heavy silence breeches the conversation between them and the only sound is the buzzing of her alarm clock and their stilted breathing patterns.

"How long do you think he's been gone?"

"I don't know," she says. "You'd been gone for about forty-five minutes when he arrived and shoved his way in. I'd say that was earlier this morning. But I lost track of time when he drugged me."

Breathing out through is nose, her words haunt him in a way he isn't quite sure he understands. Immediately, the situation gets put on the backburner as the guilt forms again over their argument this morning. The misplaced blame put on her non more apparent than right now.

"I'm so sorry, Olivia," he breathes out miserably.

She glances at him again. "For what?" she asks in her husky voice and suddenly it feels like the night before when she'd begged him for more, for him to go faster and deeper.

He'd never before heard the way her voice dropped several octaves as she'd whispered passionately in his ear, asking for him to make her cum. And he had because she deserved every ounce of stamina he had and then some.

The memories of the night before ease the situation slightly but not the fact that they need to talk, badly but fuck if the timing isn't shit.

"Everything," he offers grimly. "I know I'm not the easiest person to be with. But I want you to know, that I never meant to blame you earlier. It's my fault and I need you to know if anything should hap-"

"Stop, Elliot," she interrupts him with a watery gaze and stern look. Several seconds pass before she speaks again. "I know," she huffs out. "And it's partially my fault okay? I'm no saint. You know that," she whispers shyly as she turns her head back towards the ceiling. "I just hate that you had to find out exactly how much."

"Olivia none of that matters to me. I just want to apologize. There's no reason for the way I treated you. I acted without thinking, because, because of what happened between us last night..."

He hears her sniffle before jerking on the restraints painfully gripping her flesh he realizes. "I know, El. I do. And me too. But right now, I need us to think. I want to see you outside of these four walls again, Okay?" she whispers.

He nods thanking God that it doesn't look like she's going to kick his ass and run given the chance because of his earlier actions. He'll never be satisfied with just telling her how sorry he is, he makes a promise to her that he'll make it up to her in everyway he can because right now he knows she won't hear it.

"When he comes back," he whispers, the start of a plan formulating in his mind but before he gets another word out, the bedroom door clicks open and a scruffy face with a large smile eases his way inside the bedroom. His tall frame looms over both of them as each wait with bated breaths for his next move.

"Oh, you're both awake. Alright then!" he smiles brightly while rubbing his large hands together. He walks over to the pedestal on the other side of Olivia's bed and mumbles to himself, "Tape's ready to go," as he sets down a plastic bag on the floor next to it.

He walks slowly to the edge of the bed and swipes a hand down the back of his greasy hair as he lears cockily at Olivia's half exposed body, while she looks back at him, her eyes slanted with anger.

Elliot's heart sinks when he watches Eric's hand move to his belt, his large palm landing on the handle of a gun in the belt loop.

"So," Eric starts to say as he turns to look at Elliot sitting stoicly on the floor, "Elliot man, which one of us is first?

tbc.

**Please feel free to let me know what you think. I really do think this time, I have an ending point in sight. I just want to thank everyone who's kept with me and encouraged me to continue this. Also, reminder, this is M for a reason.**


	18. Chapter 18

**IWCT Chapter 18**

"Don't you touch her," Elliot grates out from his position on the floor. His head is still groggy but he still feels the fiery anger toward the man he knows little about.

"What? I thought we were a team, Elliot?"

"We are on no fucking team, you hear me? Lay one finger on her, I'll kill you," Elliot breathes out harshly as his face flushes red. "One finger!"

Eric steps closer to him and touches the top of his large work boot against the side of Elliot's knee that lays splayed out in front of him.

"You know, I'm not good on cop outs. And you for one, are in no position to be threatening don't you think," he grins as he nudges the side of Elliot's knee with the tip of his boot. "Right?"

"Get the fuck of me," Elliot grates, struggling against the threads holding his hands firmly in place behind him. "Let me fucking go so we can really talk this out."

"Elliot," Olivia warns from the bed, her eyes wide as she watches Eric taunt a distraught and beyond angered Elliot on the floor. The vein in his neck is going to combust if something doesn't change soon. She can't let him anger himself sick before they get out of this. If they do.

"Oh, Olivia's chiming in," Eric laughs. "Gotta cool down Mr. Hot Pants huh babe," he questions leeringly at her. He gazes down her body before turning his attention back to Elliot who watches him like a hawk. "She's a smart bitch huh? Better listen to her, she knows what happens when I'm tempted. Right? It's not pretty is it?" he asks and she wants to dissipate into thin air at what he's insinuating.

She doesn't want Elliot to know anything of that because he'll kill himself with his own rage for Eric. "That has nothing to do with this," she tries to plead with her eyes but Eric is having nothing of it she realizes as he grin persists.

Looking back down at Elliot, he nudges his knee again with the steel toed end of his boot. "Oh, it has a lot to do with it babe." The nickname makes her want to gag and then again, it would probably give him satisfaction and she won't give it to him, so she ignores him and looks at Elliot whose eyes are still wide and his chest puffed out as he breathes heavily.

"Doesn't Elliot here deserve to know what happens when you don't do what I say?"

"Eric please. You don't have to do this. We're on your side, this doesn't have to be this way," she persists, trying to side with him, but the lies burn her throat as soon as speaks them. He seems to comprehend her for a second, removing his boot from Elliot's leg as he straightens his back. Walking toward the bed, he clears his throat before sitting down on the edge next to her hip.

Sighing, he glances at Elliot and then back at her and it makes her shiver at how close he is while Elliot watches Eric's every move, worry lining his eyes and it kills her.

"Olivia, we've always had a connection, huh?" he asks with a hint of a smiling lining a corner of his lips and it's almost like he's the man she knew before all this and that's what scares her. The fact that he can change from this to that in a matter of seconds is frightening. "But you've broken that connection, didn't ya?" he retorts, the grin slowly fading away. "By fucking mister tough guy there." Bingo. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde again, she realizes.

Sniffing, she swallows and glances at Elliot before turning her gaze back on Eric. "I'm sorry," she sweetly apologizes. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You gave me five amazing months. You didn't deserve that," she apologizes, trying to sway him back onto her side again knowing that her skills at negotiating are needed more than ever right now.

Nodding, he looks down at her bare stomach before lightly placing his palm against the skin there.

The contact makes Elliot's blood boil as he watches Eric and Olivia converse on the bed while he rages and tries to scramble for ideas on what to for her.

Eric's next words make his blood run cold though.

"Yea, that day I saw you in that bar, I knew I wanted you. I had to have you and who knew that five months later, we'd be together, making babies and I'd be making every sucker jealous?" he laughed softly, seemingly truly believing what he and Olivia had was something she was truly happy with and it makes his head spin.

Had Olivia really felt strongly for this guy? From what he'd gathered in the few details Olivia had given him is that she thought they 'could have' been something but that she didn't actually think they were going to ever get there. The way Eric talks now, sounds like they were one step from a marriage proposal and once again he questions everything.

He looks to Olivia and her gaze is set intently on Eric. She swallows and he can see her throat bob with apprehension. "Yea, it was nice. I don't think I ever thanked you for that."

Eric nods and reaches up and strokes Olivia's cheek. "Yea, we had something special. I'd love to start over. Right now. How about we get rid of him and get back to where we left off," he smiles deviously as he runs his palm down Olivia's neck and towards her chest. "Just you and me."

Elliot's heart stops when Olivia's eyes soften at the offer and it makes him want to disintegrate into the floor. She can't be falling for his tricks. There's no way.

"Olivia," he puffs out, his breaths labored. When she looks back at him, her eyes are filled with worry and he's not sure if it's because he's broken Eric out of his half cocked fantasy or because she knows something he doesn't. Either way, he feels out of place.

Shaking her head, she looks back at Elliot briefly before turning to Eric. "Eric baby," she offers softly. "I can't do that. You understand don't you. I thought I explained," she offers softly.

"Explained what?" he huffs as he softly smacks his knees with his palms . "You just said we had something special. I made a mistake Olivia but I want to make it up to you. I fell for you and I didn't handle the rejection well. Can't you see? I just want to get rid of him so I can't make love to you again. This time for real. I don't ever want to leave this bed."

Screaming on the inside for him to stop this tirade in front of Elliot, Olivia flinches when he says "make love," remembering all the times she'd ask him to and he did everything but. The thought of him touching her ever again, makes her skin crawl and her heart aches as she watches a look of despair and hurt wash over Elliot's face as he looks away from them and glances out the window.

Like him, she wishes she were anywhere but here right now. She'd rather be anywhere with Elliot than here in this apartment where too many unwanted memories rest.

"Eric, I need you to please untie me," she responds, trying a new tactic. "Even if we were to start over, you can't treat me like a prisoner can you? That's no way to have a relationship."

He licks his lips before he leans his elbows on his knees and rests his chin in his palms. "I can't do that, Olivia. I need you to promise me to do this with me first."

Shaking her head, she tries but fails to pretend she wants him and it ends just as she suspects. "I can't promise you that."

He immediately is on his feet again but this time he goes straight for Elliot and stands next to his legs again. "Well, that wasn't the answer I was wanting and now I think it's time for someone to pay. I can't keep going in circles Olivia," he says begrudgingly, and too calmly.

She inhales a deep breath and watches him. "Please, Eric. Don't do this. Please."

"Oh, Olivia. Shut up," he grates as he swings his steel tipped foot and slams it into the side of Elliot's knee causing him to scream out in pain.

"Uggggghhhh, fuck."

"El! Please stop, Eric," Olivia begs from the bed, her hands straining against the laces again. "Please, stop! Don't!" she pleads as blood starts rushing onto her palms.

"I told her, El," Eric starts as he leans down on his haunches next to Elliot, ignoring Olivia's distraught voice. "You don't want to get on my bad side. It's not pretty. Aint it, Liv? That gash on your forehead sure spoke volumes," he chuckles.

The memory of Olivia fainting from what she claimed was an accident permeates Elliot's thoughts and immediately he jerks again against the knots holding his hands firmly in place. "You motherfucker," he spits out exasperatedly. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you," he pants as he strains to get his hands loose so he can wipe that smug look off this fucker's face. "Lay another hand on her and I'll kill you," he grates out harshly.

Eric just smiles, the side of his mouth lifting slightly and then back down again. Sighing, he stands back up and looks at Olivia talking to herself in short whispers on the bed. He knows he fucked up with her but he can't help think in the dark recesses of his mind that if he tries hard enough, he'll get her to be with him again, even if he has to... give it a little kick start.

"Nah, you don't have to do that. I think it's better if you hear this from me though. See, she liked it. Not saying I meant to hit her or push her... or... I can't even remember, but she liked everything else, man. She liked the way I touched her, and the way I fucked her up against the wall, didn't you Liv?" he asks and she's not paying attention and that pisses him off.

She's still staring at the ceiling and pulling on the shoelaces making herself bleed. "LISTEN TO ME!" he shouts and both of them startle and he grins.

Walking over to the bed, he sits down once again and touches the side of Olivia's face and she visibly flinches. He angrily grabs her chin and forces him to look at him. "Didn't you like it?"

She shakes her head in confusion and glances down at Elliot who she can hear breathing and panting while trying to release the restraints. "Elliot man," he grinds out irritably, "quit struggling or I'll blow your fucking brains out," he all of a sudden says as he pulls his gun off his belt and points it Elliot's head.

"Eric, NO. Please, stop," Olivia pipes up.

She's been reciting everything in her mind since Elliot showed up nearly two days ago. She remembers his words filling the blank spaces of her heart and soul that she'd been unable to fill for the longest time. The thought of him suffering anymore after what he'd done that day at the precinct kills her and she doesn't want him to see any more suffering because she knows if she is, he is too.

"Please, Eric. Lets talk about this. You know you don't want to do this."

"But I do Olivia," he answers coyly and his immediate shift in emotion confuses her once again and she's struggling for air and a sense of direction with him. "I want him to hear about our love. I want him to understand that no one will ever fuck you the way I did. Not even him. Hear me buddy boy?" Eric asks as he nudges Elliot's leg with his foot again. She watches as he remains wordless and keeps his gaze on his lap. "Hey! I asked you a question!"

Elliot slowly raises his gaze, his normal sky blue eyes are now an intense shade of sapphire she's only seen a select few times. "Go fuck yourself," Elliot replies and she flinches knowingly at how Eric will react.

"Yea, that's what I thought," Eric replies as she stands in front of Elliot and then moves to his side again. "How's that knee of yours?" When Elliot's eyes slowly meet hers, a knowing glance passes between them as he fights out the anger inside of him.

"Fine," he whispers.

"Ah, that's great."

And with that, he kicks his steel tipped boot into the side of Elliot's knee once again and the agony in his voice makes her want to scream with him when his voices calls out in pain. Then Eric does it again, and again and again.

She closes her eyes begging for Eric to stop. But he doesn't and the last thing she hears before Elliot falls over coughing and swearing under his breath is the heavy sound of Eric's boot making contact with Elliot's stomach. The thud of his weight hitting the floor makes her cringe in despair as he slumps over to his side again.

Smiling, Eric turns on his heels and walks back toward Olivia. "Well now that that's taken care of, how about it?" he offers her gently, stroking her hair and she shivers once again at his mood shift.

After shaking her head, she quickly realizes it was the wrong thing to do as he turns his head frustratingly and then out of nowhere smacks her across the face with the back of his hand.

The sting is almost unbearable and the side of her face goes numb instantaneously but the warm liquid oozing down her lips doesn't go unnoticed as a sob escapes from between her them.

"I know he isn't that good of a fuck, Olivia. Now come on," he says calmly, like he didn't just numb her face from hitting her. "Let's try it out. Let's see who's better. I have the condoms, I have the lube, now what are we waiting for?"

Her mind races with dread because he's not playing anymore, not that he was before but now she's plain out frightened at what he'll do. "Eric, you don't have to. I'll do what you want, just, I don't want him to see.., I'll... I'll... " she struggles, using the old adages of survival. Tell him what he wants to hear.

"Okay, we can do that." He gets up and goes to pull Elliot out of the room by his legs but before he gets far she stops him.

"No! You don't have to do that!" she screeches out, not wanting to be alone without him. Immediately Eric's demeanor changes again.

"Well what the hell, Olivia? You want him here or not? I'm beginning to think you'd rather put on a show instead. Is that what you want?"

He stops and looks down at Elliot who groans softly but doesn't move.

"You don't have to see to know how good someone is," she whispers. "Just cover his eyes, is all I'm asking," she barely whispers, knowing that if Elliot has to see this, it'll kill him, along with her and she can't take that thought.

She loves him too much. He'll blame himself if he sees it because she knows he's just as good at compartmentalizing things just as good as she is.

Eric turns and glances down at Elliot whose eyes are scrunched together in pain. Eric nods and reaches into his back pocket for his bandana and holds it out, showing Olivia. She nods nervously and Eric nods back, leaning over Elliot and wrapping the sheath cloth over his eyes.

"Ah, there ya go buddy. They always say your other senses are heightened when one is taken away. I wouldn't want you to miss this show," he laughs softly.

Looking over at Olivia, he smiles before sitting on the edge of the bed. He leans over her and kisses her softly and she plays along hoping that Elliot realizes what's she's doing. She doesn't return the kiss but lets Eric open her mouth with his own.

She sighs into him and swallows deeply when he pulls back. "Can I trust you to not do something stupid if I let your hands free?" he asks as he leans over her.

Taking a deep breath, she glances at Elliot for a split second but he's laying on his side with his cheek pressed into the hardwood, one eye barely open underneath the sheath material that had ridden up his face when Eric had dropped his head back down onto the floor.

With his one eye trained on her, he squints briefly and she smiles for a brief second knowing he's aware of her little plan. She swallows and nods as sincerely as she can.

"I want to feel your hands on me when I'm deep inside you, so I'm going to cut your hands free. Don't try any funny business or I'll use my gun, got it?"

Her breath hitches but she nods again knowing that she has an advantage, more so than before, if he releases her hands. Eventually, he does and her arms fall limply to her sides, numb from being propped up for so long. "Better?" he asks and she nods as she hears another one of Elliot's groans from the floor.

"Yes, make love to me. Please."

He nods lovingly and it almost makes her sick knowing that only a few moments ago, he'd been humorously describing what he'd done to her a few months ago in his drunken haze, like he had no regrets in the world. Now he's being gentle with her and she has to think quick because she has no idea really if he's falling for her trick.

She watches as he leans down and kisses his way down her chest to her abdomen, not stopping until he reaches the top of her pants. He gently eases the material down over her hips before she stops him with a half asleep hand to his shoulder. "Wait, I still don't feel comfortable with him in here. Maybe put a blanket over him?"

He looks at her for a second contemplating her offer before sitting up straight.

Sighing, he stands back up and looks down at Elliot for long moments before scratching his eyebrow with the back of his pinky finger.

"Damn, Olivia. You can't stop thinking about him for two damn seconds. I'm about to take you and you're worried about him. Who gives a fuck?"

He hastily walks over to the other side of the bed and takes her and Elliot's wadded up bed linen from the night before and tosses it over Elliot's still form before returning to the bed.

"Now, is there anything else, precious over there needs before we can get this show on the road? I'm ready, oooh, more than ready," he growls as he rubs his more than apparent erection against the side of her leg. He gazes down at her with an arm on each side of her torso before lowering his mouth to hers.

And before she realizes what she's doing, she turns her head away and puts her hands against this chest in a defensive manner.

Almost instantly, she knows it was the wrong thing to do. "Eric, I'm... I'm just not ready. It doesn't feel like the right time. I'm sorry," she pleads, trying to stall what feels like the inevitable.

He growls in frustration and stands up, pacing the small area in between her bed and bedroom door. He continues to pace and while he does so, she glances back down at Elliot and he's breathing shallowly from beneath the blanket.

When she catches Eric's eyes again, there's a storm brewing behind his green eyes. "Can't believe it," he mutters, shaking his head incredulously. "I can't. fucking. BELIEVE. it."

Her own breathing becomes shallower as she flexes her hands nervously, wishing like hell he'd find a reason to leave the room for a split second so she can reach into her nightstand drawer for her gun or to untie her feet, something. The way he's become so unpredictable isn't helping anyone either.

"I guess you'd rather prove it to me then."

Her breath hitching, she turns her eyes back to his. Gulping, she shakes her head in confusion. "I don't know.. I don't know what you mean."

"Ah, quit the bullshit, Olivia. Damn. It's written all over your goddamn face. And to be quite frank, I wouldn't mind seeing it first hand. Now sit up!"

When his voice booms through the room, she's automatically doing what he says as her heart races. "What are you doing?" she asks as struggles to pull herself in a sitting position, realizing quickly how easy it would be to reach her feet and start tugging on the chords wrapped fiercely around them.

"That camera isn't recording for nothing. It's time to make a sequel baby. Except, it's Elliot's turn. I'm just the lucky audience, " he sneers as he walks over to Elliot and rips the blanket off of his huddled form. "Wakey, wakey, sleepy head," he calls out in a sinister voice and everything is moving so fast that Olivia's head starts to swirl.

Eric jerks Elliot up by one of his shoulders and once he has him standing up, he stands in front of him with his palms planted on each of Elliot's shoulders. "Now don't disappoint. I'm ready to see what all the fuss is about. If I don't like what I see, this gun will be lodge somewhere none ya will be happy with. Now get the fuck going," he grits as he pushes Elliot face first onto the bed.

Elliot yelps in pain as he bounces against the mattress.

Eric silently walks to the bed, his gun pointed now at Olivia as he reaches and tugs against the chords binding Elliot's hands. She sits unable to move as she watches Eric expertly untie the knots.

Once they're undone, he yanks the cloth from Elliot's eyes and he immediately squints against the hazy glow of sundown. As he tries to push himself into a sitting position, Eric lowers his gun away from Olivia, watching them closely as Elliot turns toward her.

"Olivia," he pants as he reaches for her. His minds is racing as she sits still next to him, eyes wide and concern lining the edges of her eyes.

"Elliot," she whispers. He reaches for her face but the sound a gun cocking stops them in their tracks.

"Don't touch each other until I say so," comes Eric's gravelly voice. After a few moments of hesitation, he steps in front of the pedestal and moves it to a new angle next to the bed. "Now, undo each others feet. Any sudden moves, and I'll use this gun."

.

.

.

The cool sheets grazes his bare back as he moves slowly.

He closes his eyes and thinks back to the night before when he'd look down at Olivia with her face bunched up in ecstasy. Her mouth had been slightly parted with her head thrown back as he'd gently rocked into her, and against her in a slow cadence that made him realize it was the first time in his life he'd felt so alive. So complete.

She had run her well manicured nails down his back and to his ass, urging him on and all he remembers after that is leaning down and capturing the sensitive flesh of her neck in his mouth as he wrapped himself around her and move so deeply inside that he never wanted to lose sensation of her warm insides wrapped around him ever again.

The velvet texture of her insides gliding against his cock had brought him to the edge of that renown precipice just as she'd gripped his ass tighter, panting 'yes, oh god' into his ear as she gripped him inside of her.

He opens his eyes now and hers are closed this time. He isn't inside her but he's resting on top of her, scared of what happens next.

Behind them, he can hear Eric rustling around in the bags he had brought with him and he immediately looks at Olivia staring back at him. He mouths, "What's he doing?"

She glances over Elliot's shoulder and then looks back into his eyes. "I don't know. Looking at whatever's in those bags."

Nodding, Elliot rests on his forearms and leans as close to Olivia's ear as he can. "He's not going to touch you. If this is the only way to give him what he wants, then we have to figure out a plan from here."

"I agree," she whispers. Swallowing, she nods toward her nightstand. "Nightstand. Gun," she barely whispers but the way Elliot's bare body tenses on top of her, she knows he understands. Distract Eric somehow while they're "having sex," and then go from there.

It has to work. It's nearly their only option. Eric had found both of their cell phones and crushed them under his boots right in front of them earlier. Then he took scissors and cut both phone lines in her apartment claiming there couldn't be any distractions. Convenient, she had thought.

Now as adrenaline courses through her veins, she sees a endpoint in sight but is still scared to death at what cost it'll take to get there. The camcorder is recording and the blinking red light reminds her of when she first woke up.

She had been so relieved when he didn't try to have sex with her earlier. His emotions had flip flopped so frequently, she wasn't sure if he would force himself on her with Elliot right there or not.

But right now, she's not sure having to "perform" with Elliot is any better or not.

She takes a shuddering breath when Eric's voice finally sounds out from the other side of the room after wrestling with the objects inside the plastic bags for several minutes.

"Well, looks like it's time." He clicks the safety off on the gun and moves around to the side of the bed so he can see them both. "Okay, Stab-ler. Now prove to me that you're worth my fucking time. Prove to me that I don't compare. Because if you don't, there's going to be lead in your back."

.

.

.

Sweat coats the back of his neck and his palms twitch nervously as his young new detective walks down the corridor with him in tandem. She's a good detective and he's grateful she's as hard headed as the rest of them but who he's really concerned with is someone else.

As they reach the landing leading to the fourth floor of the apartment building, his heart stops when a thunderous boom resonates through the air.

_BANG!_

Amanda instantly stops in her tracks and reaches for her gun at her hip but he puts his hand against hers to stop any further movement.

The shot rings through the air, the muffled blast still alarmingly loud even through the thick wood door several inches down from them. His heart beats in a tell tale pattern that things on the other side of the wooden barrier are not going to be good.

Within seconds, another loud boom comes from inside and before he can think twice, he nods towards Rollins and they're both moving in rushed steps toward apartment 4E.

Olivia's.

As soon as they reach the front door, a distraught cry coming from the inside sends shivers down both of their spines.

"Elliot!"

The shrill scream on the other side of the door causes his body to react before his brain has time to register his actions. He's in front of the door within seconds and he has his gun drawn with his detective in tow. He slowly reaches for the knob and it's locked.

Panicking, he shakily takes a few steps back and reaches for his radio on his hip as he quietly stumbles to the nearest wall.

"I need a bus," he calls out shakily. "This is Donald Cragen. Captain of the 1-6. There's been gunshots at a Detective Olivia Benson's apartment, address is on file. I need back up now, do you read?"

tbc.


	19. Chapter 19

**Now edited. **

* * *

><p><strong>IWCT Chapter 19<strong>

Bodies reminiscent of ants scurrying around an anthill, blend together above the tepid ground. The movement is apparent but the muted mumbles of each person walking around causes her eyes to briefly slip closed.

In the corner of her eye, she sees the strikingly familiar red and blue lights of police vehicles surrounding her but she doesn't hear a sound as she gazes about in a daze, her mind not registering everything going on.

She feels like she's floating above herself, not really here in this moment, yet still experiencing this point in time in a dream or a nightmare. The stiff and itchy police issue blanket covers her shoulders as she shivers against the cooling night air.

It's the beginning of fall and she thinks it's ironic. Her stability had begun drifting away with the warm air as the earth rotated away from the heat of the sun. Her life, it's been so turned upside down of late. She'd rather have the heat instead of the ice filled glacier she'd felt trapped in for months.

Another tremor runs through her and she glances up just as the front doors to her apartment building swish open. A group of officers mill about and scurry out of the way as several paramedics wheel him out of her building. As they get closer to her position in the back of one of the ambulances, she sees him just laying there, his shirt soaked in blood.

As the stretcher stops several feet in front of her, her heart stops. It's real. She sees it in his face. The dark hair is apparent against his skin and his thick brows furrow even in his deep sleep. It's real. His eyes are closed and his body lifeless but it still doesn't seem possible. It's real. He's gone and a weight on her chest intensifies.

The two medics lift the gurney into the back of the ambulance and in seconds the doors slam shut and a breath of air escapes her lungs as she watches as the bus quietly leaves. It's time to go. It's time to process the next step in her life so she can clean up the mess she so undoubtedly and stupidly stumbled into.

If she's lucky, she'll be able to breathe freely again one day.

.

.

.

"Ma'am?"

Moments later, a young a paramedic, no older than his early twenties, gently shakes her shoulder to snap her out of her daze. Her focus had been on the empty space the ambulance had been sitting in.

"It's detective," she murmurs against the scratchy blanket.

"I'm sorry detective. Are you okay? Do we need to take you to the hospital? Just to be sure?"

"No, I'm fine," she immediately replies, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders as she moves to reveal the dingy shirt an officer had handed her earlier. Once she inspects the faded band insignia on the front, she looks back up just as another female paramedic comes up to them.

"She want to be checked out?"

"I'm right here," she announces with annoyance. "And no, I wasn't hit. I want to see, Elliot," she breathes out as she moves to stand up.

"He's being taken care of now. His bus left about ten minutes ago. His shoulder was pretty torn up. Want us to get a uniform to take you there?" Before the medic can finish, she's shaking her head and mumbling to herself as she searches the crowd of people. Officers are still milling about trying to keep pedestrians off the main sidewalk leading up to her apartment which now constitutes as a crime scene she deduces.

Great.

Her eyes scan over the remaining buses and even a firetruck lines the street and she wonders where her captain is. She skims the crowds with her eyes and immediately she spots him. Limping slightly but stealthily, she makes it to him in several strides. He spots her too and meets her half way. "Liv, you're hurt, you should be checked out, " her captain retorts taking in her haggard appearance. "You might need stitches for that lip too, detective," he offers solemnly, an undertone of anger lining his voice.

"I wasn't hit by the shots, cap. I'm fine, I'm fine. I ...," she breathes out hastily, emotion welling up in her chest. "I... need to know how Elliot is? I need to know.. if he's okay... why are we still here?"

Nodding, Cragen turns back toward the crowd and in seconds he has his detective by the the upper arm, leading her gently to a squad car several feet away. "Okay, we're headed there now. They didn't have time to wait for anyone to ride along because of the wound."

In the back of the car, the sound of the outside air swooshing against the back windows does nothing to appease the dread building inside of her chest. Her captain sits next to her in the back seat as two uniformed officers sit up front. Her captain's back is stiff and she can only imagine why.

His hand fidgets against the handle on the back door and the sirens blaring loudly against the top of the car cause her head to throb. She immediately remembers the contact against her cheek and reflexively reaches up to touch the bruised area.

She winces at the pain and she's just now aware of the pain her body is in. Her arms ache and her back twinges with each move she makes and her face throbs from Eric's harsh smack.

She doesn't even look up when she feels Don's eyes on her. "I guess I don't have to tell you that I'll need to get a statement from you. But what I'd like to know is what the hell happened in the time I last saw you and the time I realized you weren't answering your phones," he whispers harshly against the window.

Snapping her head up, she gives her captain a watery gaze. "But how-," she starts but is cut off by his deep voice.

"Off the record I mean. I need to know what you've been up to because there's a lot on my plate right now with 1PP. Another detective can take your official statement if and when it comes to it. Which could be soon so I hope you're ready then."

She nods her head and before she can even formulate a coherent abridged version in her own mind of the events concerning the last several months of her life, the car stops and she realizes... later. After she sees that Elliot is okay, then she'll think about the rest. Because right now, he's all that matters.

.

.

.

When they reach the Emergency Room, Elliot is already in emergency surgery. The receptionist tells them all she knows and both Olivia and her captain find themselves sitting on the hard backed chairs of the waiting room, the private area sanctioned off for police and other emergency responders.

Olivia swipes a tired hand down the side of her face as she stares blankly at the tiled floors. Nurses and techs pass by the door leading into the room as they sit and wait. She tries to formulate something to tell her captain. Her mind races and her palms sweat as she thinks about what the fuck just happened. They both almost died.

She and Elliot.

It's just now registering, the adrenaline dissipated enough for the most part and now her captain sits stoically waiting for her to tell him something she's not sure will be enough.

"I don't know how I let this happen," she whispers into thin air as she shakes her head. "This is my fault, Don."

Swallowing, the older man, looks down at his lap and turns his sorrowful eyes toward her, "How'd he get shot?" The older man wants to know, he's been her captain for a long time and even though she's been an elite cop for years, he still feels a protective hold over her and he can't imagine why she'd have a criminal in her home, let alone at the same time as her former partner.

"I shot him," she quips immediately, knowing where her captain's head is. "I had to shoot past him or Eric would kill us both."

"How did he get in there?"

"He pushed himself inside. I'm so stupid. It's my fault, it should've never gotten to this point and now Elliot's hurt and I don't even know how I let it happen," she berates herself.

Cragen reaches for her shoulder and grasps it tightly. "Stop blaming yourself. Stop torturing yourself for surviving. He's in surgery but he could be on a slab right now, even you said it."

Nodding and accepting his words, she leans back with red rimmed eyes. "I had to stop him or he was going to kill one or both of us," she repeats, leaving out the vivid details of Eric's sick scheme. "Eric had been messing with a camera," her voice trails off as she looks at her captain with a glazed over look on her face remembering the camera that she'd been sure was recording everything. "Did the CSU techs find any tapes? The camcorder?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to them yet. This happened so fast. I'm sure we'll be hearing more soon though. Fin's on his way up there now and Munch and Rollins are already canvassing the apartment. But since we're part of the sex crimes unit, we don't get first say right now. Like I said, things may change soon, but your colleagues are still on it."

Letting out a breath of air, she nervously twitches on the chair. "I made a mistake, Don. I had only a split second to open my drawer to get to get to my gun. I shot Elliot through the arm trying to take Eric down before he shot Elliot in the back. Eric never saw my piece."

Don's eyes furrow as he tries to imagine why she'd have to do it that way but decides not to press anymore. He decides that that's something she'll have to reveal later on and possibly in her formal statement to the brass. What he really wants to know is how she knows this Eric Morgan and why he's apparently been in her apartment more than once.

"Olivia, I have to ask... How well did you know Eric?" His voice is calm but when he turns his inquisitive eyes toward her, she knows something is wrong.

"I uh, I uh," she pauses as she worries her lips. "I was dating him."

Surprise flits through her boss's features before he turns his body toward her.

"Olivia, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because, I didn't think it was important."

"Well it is," he sighs. "It's important because one of the NYPD's leading detectives has been harboring a criminal who thanks to Detective Amaro's fine skills found him in relation to several crimes he's wanted for, including several domestic abuse claims. Tell me you had no idea, Olivia. I need to know. This on top of that, it won't look good for you. If Nick hadn't gone back on a case about a laptop full of kiddy porn where a friend of Eric's ratted him out as being the co-owner, we'd still be out of luck. But Nick doesn't know for certain he's connected to you since you've never talked of any relationships."

Her breath hitches as she listens to each word. She honestly had no idea and that's why she hates herself even more in this moment. "I didn't," she whispers. "I had no idea. It never crossed my mind that something was off until... not long ago actually."

"Well, it would've helped if you'd used your hunch a little sooner."

Huffing out a breath of air, she turns to her captain. "I swear I didn't know, Don. I would have never harbored anyone. Let alone him, if I had known."

"Well now he's dead and you could face charges, Olivia. That's if self defense doesn't come into play or knowledge of your relationship comes up."

"I never told anyone and only went out with him a once several months ago. It was only for five months. How did you even figure out there was a possible connection between us anyways?"

"Amaro checked his old apartment and didn't find him there after a warrant went out for his arrest so then Nick went to a bar he frequented and the bartender said Eric was there a lot but hadn't seen him in several months, not since he saw him getting friendly with a nice woman who "kinda" looked like a cop but he later recanted saying the woman was a blonde."

"Oh god," she breathes out, leaning her elbows on her knees exasperatedly. Several seconds pass as Olivia takes deep breaths to calm herself as she registers her captain's words.

Patting his detective's back, Cragen leans toward her and whispers into her ear matter-of-factually. "I know you weren't there that night."

She sits up to answer with an incredulous look on her face just as a man in scrubs appears in the hallway, walking directly toward them. He knocks on the doorway to the small waiting area anyways before speaking.

"Uh, I'm assuming you're here for Mr. Stabler," the man questions.

"Uh, yes, I'm Captain Don Cragen and this is Detective Olivia Benson. He was one of my detectives. I uh, I guess we're his immediate family at the moment. Can you tell us anything?"

"Well, being that it wasn't as serious as it could've been, I'm able to tell you that he's made it out of surgery. He's in a room now but I can't tell you the extensive details as of yet but being that he's been a member of the force we'll probably be able to relay more info to you sooner than later. If you have any questions before I go, I'll try to answer them now if you want."

This time Olivia speaks up. "You say he's going to be fine?" she mutters nervously, her hands finding their way into the pockets of her dark slacks.

"Yes, as of now, he's stable but out of it from the pain meds being administered. Let me tell you what, I'll let one of you go back to see him in about ten minutes. Just as soon as he's been situated okay? I'll have a nurse come out and get you."

"Okay, thank you doctor."

He nods and walks away but before either can sit down, Detective Amaro walks through the door and the concerned look on his face causes Cragen's heart to drop.

"Uh, Olivia?"

"What-?" she asks as she turns around to see where her captain's gaze has settled on.

Amaro approaches them and stops a few feet in front of his partner.

She realizes it's been several hours now since she and Cragen arrived at the hospital and plenty of time has passed for whoever to find what she's dreaded them finding back at her apartment.

"Yea, Liv. I have some news that I overheard," he offers sheepishly. "Well that's at least until we were kicked out for being the panty police and not homicide."

"What's going on?" she asks timidly, the younger man's face void of any revelation at this point.

"You're gonna be questioned about a tape the CSU found, Liv. I uh," he runs a nervous palm down the side of his hair. "It had some pretty risque things on it, no worries nobody saw it but the main tech though," he whispers as he leans in. "He says he knows you and used to.. work somewhere else... I don't know.. but he said he'd keep it disclosed for the time being. I'm here to take you back to the station so they can take care of it there if you want."

"Wait. Am I being arrested?" she asks.

"No, well at least I don't think so. Uh, Reuben? He uh, said we should wait for your statement to make sure it formulates with the stranger in the video and he said he'd wait for you so he'd only hand over the part of the video relevant to your case."

"My case?"

"Well, just hypothetically speaking."

Her breathing becomes rapid as she listens to Nick's words. Her mind is racing a mile a minute wondering what exactly Morales saw. She and Elliot never had sex on the tape but they were positioned rather intimately while Eric was fucking around with the bags and the camera, giving her ample time to reach for her gun she had finally realized moments before firing it.

"Um can't they wait a little longer. I want to see Elliot?"

"I don't know. All I know is what I was told. I'm the new guy here," he laughs softly. "I know you guys are all a tight nit group over here, so I guess I'll wait for you."

Nodding her head, Olivia turns to her captain and he nods.

She watches as he noticeably swallows, knowing he's thinking the same thing as she is. She can claim self defense against _a stranger_. Eric Morgan was a stranger in all the ways that counted and she shudders.

Not telling anyone of their relationship had undoubtedly saved her life. To Amaro, it'd look like a coincidence since Eric's apparently been around. Knowing what she knows about what went down in her apartment, she knows it was self defense because she and Elliot were never going to give him what he wanted and he was undoubtedly crazy enough to shoot.

Now she understands Eric's need for her forgiveness. Eric had been there in her apartment building that had no door greeter, no cameras.

And her living at the end of the hall with no neighbors other than the old woman two doors down who is too senile to know her own name most days, made it convenient for him on so many levels and it angers her at her naivete.

Now she knows why Eric was so attached to her. No one to see, no one to tell on him. Her apartment was his haven and she didn't even know it.

She was a cop, and no one usually questions what goes on behind the door of a cop's apartment, and no one would be the wiser of his presence there at all.

Don stands up and stuffs his hands into his suit pockets."Liv, I'm sure Tucker will have his ass up in arms if he doesn't get a piece of this soon. I'd get the statement done as soon as possible. He's going to want to make sure the shooting was clean and well, I think you know the rest."

.

.

.

"Can you tell me exactly what led up to the intruder entering your apartment?"

As she inhales a deep breath of air, she knows that she dodged the biggest bullet of them all. Her captain has taken the brunt of her fuck ups for so many years and this is no exception. He could lose his job for knowing her involvement with Eric. But she knows her captain too. Whatever she said to him today, will stay between them and the four walls.

Because what really matters is what she knows is on that tape and she knows she'd shoot Eric Morgan or Eric Philips or whoever the hell he is, a million times if it meant saving the the man she's been in love with longer than she wants to admit.

Lifting her head, she turns over the question in her head, "Yes, I was waiting for Elliot to come back home."

"Did you know Eric Morgan?"

Long moments pass before she gets the courage to admit it out loud for the first time since it all started.

"I never really knew him at all." In hindsight, it isn't really a lie and if he wanted to be hidden behind the four walls of her apartment, who was she to talk.

**. **

**...**

**Oh wee, I know them all lying for each other would be so controversial and mind you, I did bend the rules on some things to make this work. I hope you all enjoyed. I'm going to do one more chapter and an epilogue or just a two part epilogue next and hopefully everything will be tied together. Thanks so much for reading and letting me know what you think. I've read and appreciated every single one of your reviews. Please don't hesitate to let me know if there's something too far out in this chapter and I'll go back in and fix it as much as possible. **

**PTB**


	20. Chapter 20

**IWCT Chapter 20 **

**Part One**

_"Elliot!" _

_His body collapses on top of her, muffling her cries._

_He's still, so still as she lies paralyzed beneath his body. He's inside of her still and she can feel the warmth of his blood seeping into the sheet._

_"Oh, this is how you wanna play it, Olivia?"_

_Shaking her head frantically, she tries to protect Elliot's still form as Eric paces around the bed as if stalking his next prey. _

_"Please don't," she pleads. "Please, he needs a doctor."_

_"Fuck doctors, they don't know shit. They can't diagnose shit. Look at me."_

_"Eric," she pleads. This feels all too real. A cold sweat forms on her brow and as she lets loose of Elliot's still form, she sits up and immediately regrets it._

_Without the heat of his body on top of her, it leaves her exposed and vulnerable. She's naked and she immediately reaches down to grab her robe. Before she gets her hand on it, Eric's on her. He grabs her by the arm and forces her to her feet._

_"Ah, no you don't. Since Elliot here is out of the picture, it's time for us to catch up on old times," he snarls. _

_He yanks her toward the wall, her exposed breasts hitting the stucco. Eric presses his chest into her back and panic immediately sets in. Olivia tries to push herself away from the wall but it's no use with his weight pressed against her. _

_"Stop! You don't wanna do this. You don't wanna add this to your rap. Please, Eric," she pants as she pleads but it's no use as he leans and presses his mouth against her ear._

_"No time for small talk," he pants into her ear as she hears him unzip his jeans. _

_"NO! No...no," she repeats, struggling against the wall. _

_"LIV!"_

She shoots up in bed, her heart racing as the nightmare dissipates from her mind. She looks around the dark room, a soft silver film coating the floor from the moon outside.

Running a palm down her face, she turns toward the familiar voice. Elliot's sitting with his back against the headboard and his hand is gently grazing her spine in a comforting manner.

After a few moments, she speaks.

"Another one," she barely whispers.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asks soothingly.

"It's just the same thing, over and over. It's like my mind can't grasp that he's actually dead."

"It takes time. You gotta give yourself a break. It'll be okay."

"Yea, but it's been two years, El. It's been two years and he still haunts me."

Scooting forward, Elliot lets his legs drop to the floor as he sits next to her in their bed. He wraps his arms around her waist and leans his head down, placing his nose in the crook of her neck.

Kissing the soft flesh of her neck, his warm breath flutters across her skin when he decides to speak again.

"Think it's time for that vacation?"

"I don't know, El," she whispers as a soft moan escapes her lips from his breath on her neck.

"We have all the time in the world now. I wish you'd let me take care of you."

"That's just it. I don't know what to do with myself. I never expected things to turn out the way they did."

"That's for sure. I never suspected you'd show up to my apartment the night I was released to tell me you put your papers in."

She laughs at that.

"Is that all you remember from that night?"

"Hmm, it has been two years, " he jokes as her pulls her closer to him. "But I think I remember most of it."

"Yea, I bet you do. Shot in the shoulder or not, you made sure I paid for that," she grins, nuzzling her nose against the large scar on his upper arm, kissing it.

She remembers the hoops she'd have to jump through much like Elliot would have had to to make sure she kept her badge.

But in the end, she had decided to not even mess with the process, deciding that even though she'd spent her life making up what happened to her mother, it was time to move on.

She'd cried all night thinking about it, mourning over the loss of a job that gave her reason she kept reminding herself it was time. It was time.

After medical records came up on Eric disclosing his history of violence, she knew that what Cragen did for her, by hiding facts, actually helped her make this decision.

Eric was soulless with no conscience and she still doesn't feel the least bit sorry for killing him to save Elliot. The thought makes her shudder on the inside.

She's quiet for so long that he thinks she's fallen asleep against him until her thick voice, full of fatigue, filters around him.

"He shot you this time," she whispers, referring to her nightmare. She purposely leaves out the fact that he might've been dead in her dream and the fact that Eric was going to rape her.

He had found her at her lowest and took advantage of the fact she had lost Elliot for eight long, long months. It's a part of her life she'll never get back or fully get over.

But the fact she and Elliot have made it two years into a relationship, means the world to her because all that time apart has only made their current bond even stronger.

Night after night of nightmares since the day she shot and killed Eric, he's never left her side, not one time. He never blamed her for the way things happened and in all honesty, she's relieved.

The video was burned, Eric is dead and she almost lost her job because of killing him. Even though she got bailed out by being handed a self defense case, at the end of the day, she just didn't care anymore and put in her papers.

That night she'd went to Elliot's place, he'd just been released from the hospital that afternoon so she knew he was still sore but he was the only one she wanted. She knew the fight they'd had was a thing of the past.

They'd made love that night. Many times and it felt like it was the start of something genuine, something new between them without the veil of uncertainties lingering over them when they were partners and when he'd left and came back.

His warm voice breaks through her thoughts as he kisses her cheek.

"But he didn't. I'm still here. You won't get rid of me that easily," he says, smiling against her skin.

"Nor do I want to," she smiles as she turns her head into him. "I'll take you up on that vacation, Elliot. As long as you're paying," she laughs against his chest. "I love you, you know that right?"

Elliot runs his fingers through her long brown hair, using the silky strands to lift her face. When she looks up, a wicked grins is plastered across his features.

"I do," he nods his head. "And also, the perks of retirement involve tons of vacation time alone and that's what I fully intend to use it for," he smirks.

"Oh?," she whispers out in a breath of air.

"Yea," he whispers back, leaning in slowly as she stares back at him drowsily, lustfully.

He presses his lips against her and moves his hands up her sides. Lifting the material of her nightgown, he pulls it over her abdomen before discarding it completely.

"This okay," he breathes against her lips, his forehead pressed against hers, making sure she's okay with this after the nightmare that had awoken her.

She nods against him in response, lifting her hands to his face so she can run her palms over the stubble of his jaw. "I really do love you," she mumurs against his mouth as they connect passionately.

She needs this with him. There's a need for him swimming through her veins that surpasses any other relationship she's had in her entire life.

His touch ignites something primal in her and something so fullfilling that nothing else matters when she looks into his blue eyes at night and when she wakes up in the morning.

She moves over him, pressing his back into the mattress as their mouths tangle and hands sensually roam over each other.

Elliot wraps his arms tightly around her naked back as she wraps her own under his arms, holding tight, never wanting to let go of these moments with him.

She kisses his neck, his jaw and his mouth as his hands roam lower, skimming the skin of her inner thighs that are straddled over his waist.

He knows he and Olivia will never be perfect. They won't always get along and that their fights are so passionate that one or both of them want to combust but he knows that at the end of the day, one of the loneliest times of his life was without her by his side.

He'd been a mess several years ago after shooting Jenna Fox, but what he had failed to realize was that Olivia had never stopped being there for him even when he wasn't there to be there for.

She's the other piece to his hypothetical puzzle and his life has no meaning without her because she fits so intricately into the space of his life.

And no matter what happens in the future, they have an understanding with each other that goes far beyond a normal bond, and whatever life throws them, all he has to do is give her a look or a gentle touch that they're both more than comfortable doing now, and they know, they just "know" that they both love each other more than any fight.

That's the thought he lets flit away as he lifts his hips from beneath her and pushes down his gray sweatpants low enough to free himself.

She's kissing his upper chest and letting her hands freely roam his body when he closes his eyes, letting himself see them in paradise as she sinks onto him.

With each moan, he sees their smiles on a sandy beach, with each forward and backward motion of her hips connected to his own, he sees them laying side by side for eternity.

They're entangled heart and soul, body and mind, and as they both move, pleasure courses through is body and he knows she feels it too. Her eyes rise to his and her mouth quivers as she clenches around him in release.

She leans down and kisses him and he returns it with equal passion.

"I love you too, so much," he whispers softly that it's almost inaudible between their satiated pants.

And in the feeling of her warmth surrounding his manhood, he sees her as his wife.

**Part Two**

_**Two More Years Later **_

There's more nature here. It's less about the hustle and bustle of the city and more about the Spruce's blooming at the right time of year.

It's a step away from what she ever expected a few years ago but when she and Elliot had went on vacation two years ago, exactly two years after she left the Special Victims Unit to spend the rest of her life with him, she fell in love with this place.

It's a country town in upper New York. The grass is greener, the air less smoggy and Eli loves it.

He comes up to visit every weekend. Elliot goes down and picks him up from Queens, in the same house he and his ex-wife used to share, as she cooks dinner while she waits for them to return.

It's a special day this time around. It's little, well not so little, Eli's eighth birthday. She remembers the day he was born like yesterday.

When she held him for the first time, she never would have thought any of their lives would turn out the way they had.

She certainly didn't imagine being with his father, let alone living with him, while cradling his newborn in the back of that ambulance.

On a normal occassion she'd feel guilty about it, but Eli seems to accept and he loves his Liv Liv, as he's called her since he started coming around.

Kathy's moved on, Elliot's moved on and graciously, so have his kids. The other four come to visit every once in awhile too but Eli's the one she has the tightest bond with.

She hears the faint crunching of gravel from outside the kitchen window and assumes they're back.

She hurries to put the finishing touches on the special spaghetti dinner for Eli. And she tries remember not to mention the cake in the oven she baked for him either. For he'll want that before dinner.

As Elliot and Eli walk through the door, the little boy walks timidly towards the table, seeing the big pot in the middle.

"Time for dinner, Liv?" he says sweetly, his unruly curly hair, having been mussed do the windows being down in the car she assumes and it makes him look so much younger and innocent.

"Yes, baby. And guess what?"

"Yea?"

"It's all for you."

He smiles brightly and wraps his arms around her waist and she hugs him back as she looks over at Elliot who's leaning against the counter with a warm smile on his face.

"He couldn't wait to get home to see you," he says softly. "He thought you'd come with me since it's his b-i-r-t-h day."

"Daddy, I know what that means," Eli replies, releasing Olivia. "Thanks, Livia. Scetti's my favorite."

"You're welcome, now lets eat. I have another surprise for you when we finish dinner," she grins.

Elliot comes up behind her and kisses the back of her neck before whispering to her.

"What you'd do, Olivia," he grins as his hands land on her hips.

She pulls away from him with a smirk on her face.

"Nothing baby, " she replies innocently. "You get some too," she says, kissing his lips.

Later that night, Elliot tucks in his son in the upstairs bedroom and comes to sit next to Olivia who's nestled into the corner of the couch.

With the large stone fireplace burning brightly before him, and the glow of the orange flames flitting across her gorgeous face, he realizes he's never been more in love with her in his life.

The way she loves his son, well all of his kids, and the way she takes such good care of them all sends a sense of gratitude so far into his being that he can't wait for this any longer.

He sits down next to her and wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Thank you for making Eli a cake," he mumbles against her shoulder as he kisses it. "He loves you so much. Just like me," he grins.

She turns her head toward him with a smile of her own, and places her hand over his resting on her arm. "You're welcome. I knew he probably ate some earlier when Kathy had his party, but I wanted to give him something special too."

"Well, he loved it. All of it."

"I'm glad," she responds squeezing his hand.

"Yea," he whispers as he turns his focus on the burning embers resting inside the fire place guard.

Long moments pass and before he loses his nerve, he decides to do what he'd been planning for weeks. He removes his arm from around her shoulders but not before missing the look of loss on her face.

But quickly, he grabs her hand resting on his leg and kisses it sweetly as she swallows nervously.

"I've been thinking," he starts.

"Uh oh," she deadpans.

He smirks and shakes his head. "Smartass," he quips.

She laughs and a wide smile formulates across her lips.

"Ok, go on."

"I've been thinking. We've lived here for almost three years now. Together. And Eli loves it here and the older kids seem to love it too. So if we don't plan on leaving anytime soon then maybe we..." he trails off as he glances at her from the corner of his eye.

She shifts against his side, a wary expression on her face.

"Elliot?" she breathes out.

"I want you to be my wife, Olivia," he blurts out with emotion lining his voice. As his voice cracks, a tear starts to run down the side of her face.

"Elliot, baby..."

"I mean it doesn't have to be anytime soon and I won't even propose right now if you don't want me to. I just want you to know that this is it. I've waited for you for my entire life, Olivia. I want you. That's it."

She wraps herself around him and he immediately does the same. She rests her face in the crook of his neck as her tears seep into his white dress shirt. "I'm not going anywhere, Elliot. This is where I want to be. For or better or worse. Don't you ever leave me again," she mumbles against his shoulder.

"Never," he gasps against the emotion pouring between them. "Never," he whispers as he pulls back and kisses her.

They lay back against the couch, Olivia's head resting on his shoulder and their hands intertwined on his stomach. In that moment, they both realize that nothing or no one was ever gonna sever that tie and one day it would be solidified in concrete.

_**finis. **_

_**Thanks so much everybody who read and reviewed this story throughout. It took me two long years to finish this and I couldn't have done it without everyone supporting me. This was the very first long fic I started and I'm happy to have it done. Hope you all enjoyed and even though it's the end I hope you all let me know what you thought. :)**_

_**PTB**_


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